


GRS: The War

by Serabelus



Series: Green Rock Shooter [1]
Category: Black Rock Shooter - All Media Types, TMNT (2007), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2003), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: Abuse, Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe - Different Powers, Alternate Universe - Post-War, Anal Sex, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Attempted Seduction, Betrayal, Brotherly Love, Control Issues, Corsetry, Crossing Timelines, Dawn - Freeform, Dimensional cross over, Dusk - Freeform, Dysfunctional Family, Emotional Manipulation, Falling In Love, Family Drama, Family Dynamics, Family Secrets, Feminization, Forbidden Love, Friendship/Love, Gang Violence, Harm to Animals, Hostage Situations, Insanity, Lies, Long Lost/Secret Relatives, Love Confessions, M/M, Magic, Manipulation, Manipulative Relationship, Military, Minor Character Death, Minor Character(s), Mortal Sins, Partner Betrayal, Past Child Abuse, Psychological Torture, Rape/Non-con Elements, Romance, Scars, Secret Crush, Seven Deadly Sins, Sibling Incest, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Unrequited Love, Violence, love is deadly, torture by family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-24
Updated: 2016-01-12
Packaged: 2018-01-09 20:14:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 19
Words: 48,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1150321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serabelus/pseuds/Serabelus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Black and White. There is nothing worst than losing your family. Nothing worse than hearing music in your head. Nothing like the hell your family and that music put you through. The thing is Michelangelo's hell is split into two worlds: Sin conflicts his body changing his desires to a dusk and morals of a Dawn control how he sees life. It's shaming him because the greatest sin Michelangelo denies himself is letting himself love the one his heart and body crave to love.</p><p>The issue with the one he loves is his brother. One foot into his insanity asylum and another foot into a massacre because he too suffers the same illness as Michelangelo. Can Leonardo and Michelangelo over come and love or will a world divided into carnal lust and desires over compete with the sense of being a 'person' with thoughts and a higher being? Dawn and Dusks. (Hiatus)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Story has been updated and is now a series instead of a complete full story so that each arch is better catagorized. This first part is the War beginning between Dusks and Dawns. 
> 
> This is a story I've been writing for a while. Since I'm starting here and this is going to be my first story here I figured you all might like it.
> 
> I hope you all like this. This was original made from Blue Rock Shooter or something like that and my friends drawings she let me depict in my own brutal way in a story.
> 
> If I've done anything wrong please tell me?

Prologue

"I'm going away, Mikey." A soft caring, yet scared, voice spoke. The face blurred from the youngest vision again, small beady tears in the smallest eyes, as the other leaned in kissing Michelangelo's cheek. "I promise... I'll come back someday, but... be strong, okay, baby brother?" Michelangelo nodding to that face, the face that belonged to the one who he always had with him there to hold onto when Michelangelo was scared of the most stupidest of things.

It had been one of the worst nights of Michelangelo's life as one of his older brother's, eyes glowing a purple tint, turned around walking out the door. Donatello had been the first to leave him and the Dawns' way of life.

That had been six years ago, when Michelangelo was eight. Donatello, so gifted in life at sixteen, had become a monster. One of the Dusks' who were a group that were violent and tragically sinful in so many ways Michelangelo had yet to learn of in his young age.

A shiver rushed Michelangelo's spine as he turned, swiping his arm in the air, his mind cluttered with thoughts... with so many problems that had happened that year... that one year...  
Donatello had been gone for only a week before the news reached the capital.

When the news finally got to the ears of the temple in which Michelangelo's family had been living in for the years since his infancy brought Michelangelo to grieve his life just slightly. Michelangelo had taken a few minutes that day, only because he had been curious to see if they had found his older brother, his sweet dear caring older brother, to sneak into the office of the high Lord of the Summer fiefdom.

Michelangelo, after finally reaching inside the room, had failed to leave a small trace of energy outside to warn him if someone was coming. The small turtle child had been in far too much of a rush and in his hurry when the sound of the booming footsteps neared the door, the slight creaking of the knob, Michelangelo had rushed under the desk for his only source of cover. He felt every inch of his scaly skin prickle before two sets of feet came near the desk which slightly creaking as someone sat on it.

"It's happening again, isn't it." The voice of the Summer Lord, Casey Jones, stated to another person Michelangelo couldn't see. The second spoke before coming around the desk, Michelangelo placed a hand on his small beak to quell any more of his harsh breathing. The legs that appeared in front of his small hidden body were slender legs of a woman, black material wrapped around her legs to hold her shoes wound up her legs like fine lace, and a hour glass looking figure from the waist below were all he saw of this woman with no face to be identified.

The voice of the woman spoke so softly, but the crisp in her words were like the frozen ground under one's footsteps, "If more children begin to vanish, Lord Casey, we will have to act... it has been centuries since the song played... since the Dusks' were reborn in numbers..."

Michelangelo remembered his fear, he had been taught few things in his life. Dusks and Dawns being one of the main ones. Dawns, as he was, were the light of the world. They had been gifted the use of magic, the pure of heart and the trust of the flowers in the plaza's where the Angels dwelled... Michelangelo fought the tears as his mentor's, and father's, words of the last great war with the Dusks' came to his mind.

'They fight without honor, my children.' Splinter was an old rat, wise in his age and his body so frail but to those who fought him doubted he was anything so. 'They are immoral, sinful...' the look of great sadness crossed the rats eyes making his fur skin seem dull. 'And once they were great fighters, children, women, and men much like you, of the Dawns light.'

Splinter had smiled at the four young turtles all eagerly leaning into every words like sponge in a bucket of water, 'No one knows why a Dusk is created or how they are chosen, but when one is chosen in a family... a family such as the oldest late Lord Springs youngest brother...' The rat sat down on his chair before waving his hand shooing them all off to bed, 'Sleep well, no Eclipse comes ...'

Michelangelo looked up as the chair was pushed back breaking the memory, the woman sitting down swirling just once before leaning onto the table, her legs only inches from Michelangelo's body, "We must have a plan..."

He had stayed there longer than he had ever planned to, the two had sat and enjoyed a wild conversation from their own students even to the weather changing soon in all their lands. By the time they had left it was well past midnight and his mind was exhausted when he stumbled out into the corridor towards his room where his older brothers', Leonardo and Raphael, were waiting.

Michelangelo sat in his classroom six months later bored, his teachers gone and the groups forming around him, and he hummed waiting for something to happen.

"Hey," Raphael had come into Michelangelo's room during class, Raphael's smile had always been one that freaked out many of the teachers and students, before he sat down next to Michelangelo. It was a short break, another emergency meeting for all the teachers, Ladies and Lords. Michelangelo had been feeling a bit lonely, out of the class he was the 'unsuited' one for the flowers because of his personality and disposition, also because of his family name and his attitude towards things.

"Raphie." Michelangelo called his brothers childish name and had smiled giving Raphael a hug, "I hope you don't get in trouble, big brother."

Raphael only smiled, but the sorrow, somehow terrifying look it displayed, made Michelangelo frown. "Mike... I... think I'm going to take a break, okay." 'Break' was only allowed for when you graduated, when the teachers were called away, or when you were sick.

"Why? Are you sick?" Raphael chuckled hugging Michelangelo again before getting up. "Raph? What about me? What about Leo?"

He continued walking out the door, others in the room giving Michelangelo a curious, fearful, look before he tuned out the whispers that he knew would spread gossip. They would say what they said about Donatello. They would say that Raphael had become a Dusk, a sinful creature living in the dark... doing whatever the sinful did.

Michelangelo had wasted no time after that thought to get up and chase after Raphael, but he never found the older like he had desired. Michelangelo cried as he ran around another corner seeing Raphael smiling at another familiar face, "Donnie! Raphie!"

Donatello turned his face slightly surprised, "Mikey," before a smirk grew as he lifted his hand out looking into Michelangelo's face, "Are you coming also?" the voice was not his brothers. It was cold, unorganized with its pitch raising and falling, its eyes cold, glowing an illuminating purple. Though it was the smirk, on the borderline of psychotic and blood thirsty, that made him freeze.

"Donatello?" Michelangelo called more quietly. "What happened to you, brother!"

"Come with us, Mikey. It's fun." Donatello stretched his hand out a bit as he pulled Raphael closer to his sleek chest.

"No cares. No worries. No one telling us what to do." Michelangelo watched as Raphael's normal smile of anger turned up farther, taking on a maniacal smirk before his face turned his hand rising from his side out to the younger brother turtle.

"Family should stick together, right, Mike?" Raphael's voice was the same but the change was there, growing the more Raphael stayed next to Donatello. It frightened the young Michelangelo.

The darkness swirling out around them from a small rip in the fabric of space, Michelangelo knew what it was... it was hell welcoming back its children. It was the pit of sin to bring the two he loved into its embrace to corrupt their souls.

"NO!" Michelangelo shouted out as he ran forward reaching out his hands not to go with them but to pull them back. "We are a family! Please, Donnie! Raphie, please!"

Their hands dropped to their sides as they snickered turning into the dark before a pair of black-reddish pair of hands reached out taking their shoulder pulling them in that materialized inside the ripped fabricated space.

Michelangelo never thought he'd hear the music that six months ago he had over in the lord Summer's room that the Lady Winter and Lord Summer had talk about, not when he knew he had no shred of black tainting his skin, or so he thought. He looked into the face of what held onto his brothers as the gate was closing, he couldn't slow it down anymore then it seemed to purposefully do. His eyes grew wide as the fabricated face in the colors that glowed inside the pocket dimension. It smiled, it's shape shifting into something familiar but so far and so distance. Slowly it grew into something, so low, so brittle, so painful... Something his heart was pounding for and lusting for.

Michelangelo felt his legs giving out on him as he rushed to where the two had been, falling to the floor face down. His legs spread out before he stopped inches from where the portal had once been. Tears bloomed in Michelangelo's eyes as he looked up, a small orange star like crystal fell from the small part of the portal that had slightly lingered long enough for him where it landed against the ground. The sound echoed through the hall making Michelangelo cover his ears as he slowly scooted over picking it up.

The tears still pooled around his eyes as he curled into a ball, the sounds had faded and the echo of footsteps could be heard, all the while he tucked the small crystal into a pouch he had received from Donatello on his seventh birthday just a year ago.

"Where... oh dear god, Michelangelo?" a teacher said dropping down next to him. "Grab a doctor! Get the nurse! GET SOMEONE!" the teacher returned to their cooing even as he looked up.

"I still hear the music..." he whispered, "I... want my brothers..." he closed his eyes as he cried harder into his legs tying his small pouch onto the fabric of his sash around his waist before the world was spinning.

But he didn't remember the months after that until he returned to class the look of great fear in the students eyes. The look one would give the sinful.

Michelangelo remembered that spinning, remembered that pain that cracked his heart. He opened his eyes to look into his instructors who smiled clapping their hands together cheering him on. He slowly bowed after releasing the stance, something he learned somewhere else, and he turned walking off the stage. He wanted to escape this prison, escape to his room where his photos of his family were laid to be forever hiddenly admired.

'Donatello, Raphael.' Michelangelo had not heard a word from them since ten years ago, his age now eighteen. Had not seen them since the day Donatello came and took Raphael with him, he never regretted leaving but he regretted never being fast enough to get to them before the music came to spirit them away to that hell.

"-lo." Michelangelo barely caught the end of his name before he felt someone grabbed his arm in their three fingered grip, his eldest brother... his brother who had graduated only a year after their brothers went missing. He turned to see the worried expression on Leonardo's face before the sigh and disgruntled worry replaced it. "I've been calling you since you left the room... Are you still thinking about them?"

"Yes." Michelangelo nervously said looking the other way his hand touching the necklace before back at his brother. "They're family, why can't I still think about them."

Michelangelo's face turned into anger before he turned his head left while taking deep breaths, "They are Dusks now, Mikey... they are sinful, disgusting creatures. They only want to kill us, maim us... you know what dusks are, after all... this is the new era where the Dusks are beginning to rule again."

"Donnie and Raphie aren't part of it!" Michelangelo had shouted only to receive a slap to his face from Leonardo over the conversation with his older brother's free black covered hand.

"They are..." Leonardo stated looking at his brother. "Michelangelo, I've been apart of this war longer than you. I've read the reports. I've seen the pictures... I've looked at the dead... they are part of it, they are disgusting things because they listened to the song, because they went off and left their family for... for that life!"

"What is wrong with having freedom, Leo!" Michelangelo retorted. "Being here... suffocating... every day it feels like that!"

"And you 'sneak' off." A small wide eyed expression grew on Michelangelo's face as denial was approaching his lips, "Don't think I haven't noticed." Leonardo stepped forward eyeing his younger and only 'living' brother up and down. "Avoiding reality... making your memories wrong... Do you think that is honoring our family, honoring our dead?"

Michelangelo shoved Leonardo away before running off the tears growing faster even as he pushed open the portal door to his and Leonard's house before another, slamming it in the process when he entered, as Michelangelo crashed into the bed... all he wanted was to 'feel' like his family was whole again. Feel as if Leonardo wasn't desperate to kill the family still alive on the other side. As if Leonardo wasn't planning it every day since Donatello vanished into the night.

Michelangelo picked up the necklace and watched it glow a brighter orange then usual which he smiled at his lips softly kissing it as he whispeed, 'Let me be whole again' before his body shimmered with warmth. Pleasure coursing through Michelangelos blood, under his skin, nails, and as his vision turned white, slowly to grey, before finally black.

All Michelangelo saw when he woke up again was a blue mask, a look of worry. He wondered how long he had been gone from this world since only a day for himself had gone by. This world had no time restraints as Michelangelo's did from the lapses that had taken hold during years, Michelangelo noted, of going in and out of this loving, better, more honorable family of Green fighting Turtles.


	2. Chapter One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To distinguish the worlds the one that you will be reading will have the full names of the characters. The world that will be ventured in will be their nicknames.

Michelangelo slowly opened his eyes while at the same time feeling a small smile pull at his lips. That world was so nice with how they, the four turtle brothers, were all together. That was the perfect image of a family in the young Michelangelo's mind. Michelangelo rolled over so his feet could touch the floor as he stood up slowly yawning while he stretched out the kinks his shoulders had developed during the long unmoving night. Rubbing his eyes with his left hand Michelangelo reached out grabbing some clothing sitting on the night stand ready for wear on this 'brilliant happy day'.

It was his graduation ceremony clothing, particularly developed, or a hand down, from Leonardo. Michelangelo gave a small look of disgust at the bright white clothing that would wrap around his body which was unmarked by anything. He slipped on the long robes folding it around his middle much like a iromuji, a style of Kimono, before using a Datejime, a hard piece of cloth that slightly loosened at the ends of a warm grey color, to hold the whole outfit tightly together.

Michelangelo moved out of the room to see Leonardo who was already up wearing their families traditional color: Black. They were the shadows of the Dawns, the clinging black that kept the safety of the younger generation. It was part of the fact of their unusual look and high performances on the battlefields. Many times he had heard from his foster father, an old wise rat named Splinter, that they were descendants of the Dusks, the true dusks that lived long before the music. Long before both sides came and hated each other. Thus why black was both strong and feared amongst the Dawn's.

"Michelangelo." Leonardo said looking up from blowing his tea. His eyes shone brightly as a few blue flower petals fell from the table where the flower was perched upong onto the floor from the 'life' flower not yet put into Leonardo's mask, but the flower was still full even from the loss of flowering petals. "How was your sleep? Filled with other 'brothers'?" it held a slight disgusted tone, but the edges of amusement were in there also that Michelangelo could only faintly detect.

Michelangelo turned his head to the side, he wished sometimes that he was stronger in spirit as to be able to stand up to Leonardo and speak his mind... though as it were now and always impossible. Michelangelo was scared of being persecuted for being a slight defiant one. Fear that he would be accused like he had been as a child of turning Dusk. Even though he was outgoing and childish as a child, but Michelangelo had become timid in areas such as fighting or arguing with people around him after his memory loss. It mainly dealt with the way he had been raised. Avoided by others, no one but Leonardo, Raphael, and Donatello had give him much time to talk after Splinter. It might have been because of that that his family, what remained of it, felt disappointment in him. Maybe the latter and not the former? His mind clung to that idea.

Michelangelo shoulders shook slightly, but unseen through the cloth, as he sat down at the table eating the pre-made food Leonardo took time only for this one special occasion to make Michelangelo as a first gift on graduation, "Thank you for the food." Michelangelo bowed his head as he said this before slowly taking a few bites of the toasted bread. Michelangelo kept his eyes down even when Leonardo set, none to gently, his tea cup down and frowned eyeing Michelangelo across the table.

"Look at me, Michelangelo." Michelangelo lifted his head hearing the creaking of each joint in his neck. "Today is your graduation ceremony. You cannot allow other thoughts, other temptations, to cloud your judgement or actions." Leonardo set his hands on the table the cup still in them but obviously having cooled down after the time he had started sipping it. "We are fighters. Born for the front lines. I will not allow you to ..." a small echoing booming sound came from the open window at the left near the kitchen. A signal that all graduates must come at once to the great skyward halls of the cathedral.

"Let us not be late." Leonardo stood up bowing his head again to his brother, not a show of love or anything like that but a show of dominance and that this topic might be brought up again, "And you'll clean up when we return, I will be gone to the front lines again after your ceremony."

Michelangelo didn't fight against his older brother's words. That was against the rules set down by the dawns. Leonardo was the oldest and the only heir to the Hamato line in this house thus his word was law, "Of course." Michelangelo stated as he stood up leaving his unfinished breakfast on the table, he rarely ate much because of his 'addiction' that made him sleep later than normal. It contributed greatly to his weight and waist size. He was on the abnormal small side for his family, no, to everyone.

Leonardo put on his shoes watching as Michelangelo did the same and he softly smiled before standing by the 'gate' of many doors. When the two brothers walked through it they gave courteous looks towards those they knew at the hallway where others were coming from separate gates slowly fabricated in the hallway door holders in the walls before vanishing. Each would slightly bow at the others that they saw walking beside or hurrying ahead, but it was the low bow to Leonardo that always made Michelangelo feel like an outsider. Those few in black, not just his brother and soon to be him after the graduation, were honored and feared. He held back the disgusted grunt as he walked passed the multitude of colors, his white so... plain... A small bow he did to a few of them before he turned to look straight ahead to the end of the hallway where a bluish glow had appeared.

There was the gateway to the cathedral. It lead to the crater sized buildings where the stalagmites had grown, carved into intricate designs of flowers, wings, plants, and overgrown in real flowers over time. It was a beautiful artistic design showing thousand of years of the Dawn's architectural advantage in life. This room, nearly the same size as New York City, rose from deep under a cavern to the sky but Michelangelo didn't know how tall it was. All he knew was the ground was beautiful and the sky was crystal clear.

This was the graduation room. Michelangelo took a breath as he walked through, eyes half brimmed, before he turned looking to the left seeing his fellow classmates. Michelangelo's eyes turned right seeing the teachers and the cloth that they wore. A smirk grew on his face. The enchanted cloth that was created in these halls, spun by the angels that lived in their nests high in the bell towers.

"I will see you at the end." Leonardo's voice broke the spell that began to rip at Michelangelo's mind, his second time being in this dome. "Do not make a foolish mistake, please. It will bring ill words towards me as your eldest sibling."

"No." Michelangelo defeatedly said to Leonardo as he walked away towards a few of the classmates who waved their hands at him with excitement. "I'll do my best." spoken like a whipped dog indeed. That was his curse as a dawn living with his proud and mighty brother.

The time Michelangelo had been born, twenty one years ago, to now had always been a path of difficulty. Holding back every inch of his personality from shining through. Michelangelo always felt like a piece of dead flesh, but today was suppose to be a memorable moment. A time to cheer and celebrate. It had been eight years since the last graduation and that time it was Leo who had reached the chance to gain his flower. It was an ever glowing blue that didn't fade as it glowed several different shades each representing Leonardo's inner feelings.

'How bright would mine glow?' he lifted up the crystal a stunning orange that hummed slightly in his palm. 'Would it be so beautiful... look so... orange?' He wanted to be that free spirited other 'self'. Though a orange flower was uncommon to the black dressed fighters since it showed vitality and free spirit. The orange clothing, the flower, they were a beautiful combination he'd never get to wear or try for in his lifetime.

"You still looking at that weird crystal?" Michelangelo jumped shoving the necklace back under the white clothing before spinning around blushing deep enough it showed through his green skin.

"N-n-no..." Michelangelo stuttered as he hurriedly began to fix his outfit. "I..." He blushed deeper as his classmates turned him around so his ruffled appearance wasn't shown to the crowd. A few of the girls beginning to help him tidy up his appearance.

"I swear, Michelangelo, you really are an out of control Dawn... You're more suited to being a caretaker than a fighter." Mikey looked down at Angel, a friend who had only started to hang out with him the last three years when his emotional state had been at its worst.

"Sorry..." Michelangelo turned his head looking down feeling how hopelessly pathetic he was. "Thanks, Angel."

The group became silent as they all touched a finger to his skin. A light warm feeling, untamed magic, rushed against the flesh and under the clothing. It was a sign of understanding, support. It had made Michelangelo giggle a bit as it tickled along his arms and neck before he looked at the group smiling again, "Thanks."

"Well of course we're going to support you!" Charles stated standing taller than the rest of them, Michelangelo though he was a male was that of the height and size of a female. It was unknown why to others outside his family why this was, but Michelangelo had noticed that for some reason his family HAD been more feminine in areas and things. Why, he didn't know.

Michelangelo turned his head blushing as he spotted a few Blacks, only male since Blacks were leaders and fighters and never could be females, walking next to his brother.

His brother's body was a bit more bulkier then Angel's. Though Leonardo's legs were thin, Michelangelo could still see the prominent muscles coil under the skin. Leonrado didn't smile even as his eyes turned, glowing a dim blue with a look of pride slightly flashing through them. Michelangelo smiled even as a low cat whistle came from one of the boys behind Michelangelo.

"You know..." Jonah said as he whispered into Michelangelo's ear, "I can't believe your brother is a guy. I mean look at his outfit!" Michelangelo rolled his head a bit. "His gloves have hearts on them for pete's sake!"

"It's to show his love," Michelangelo knew the meaning behind the enchanted clothing.

The boots were loose but made thick to stand in the dense deadliest parts of the battles. A belt, a haramaki, that held the leggings, left side a short piece of cloth to represent shorts that rode up showing more than Michelangelo knew was deem 'appropriate'. The left covered to the ankle in thigh tight slowly loosening out fabric, to Leonardo's body even though they rode up his thighs clinging in a small clump between his legs.

Why his anal brother never fixed them was beyond him. He did remember one time where his brother and another black said something... he couldn't remember at that moment.

Michelangelo's eyes trailed up his brothers plastron to the cape that fit as a coat swirling behind inch of his arms covered underneaths the sturdy magical material stronger than even dragon scales. He looked at how far the cloth drew behind his brother. A foot, Leonardo said once to Michelangelo, enough to wrap myself in just in case.

He never answered Michelangelo's 'incase what' question and Michelangelo never asked again because it wasn't right to ask questions twice.

It was the mask that Michelangelo had loved the best. The intricate design the bow was as it was pulled into a flourish design. The tails reading down before braided. They reached to his knees and they had been the only way to touch his oldest brother for the longest time.

"Michelangelo?" Angel asked touching Michelangelo's collarbone slightly. "We need to get on stage, it's nearly starting." Michelangelo blinked owlishly trying to remember what was going on before he nodded realizing quickly that he had been staring at his brother longer than deemed necessary. He'd be scolded later.

"Hey, Angel?" Michelangelo asked walking up the small stone pillars dripping eternal water that fed the magic flowers. "What do you think will happen when I become a black?"

"You'll be killed like most of them." Angel said sadly straight to the point. "The Dusks will try to drive you into their madness, force you into their sins... i just hope you come back to me someday."

They looked into each others eyes even as Mikey smiled and said in a short unheard whisper, "I will."

Michelangelo looked down the line as the women went first their flowers ranging from pink to purples some even blues, greens, and white. He smiled as he knew the whites were always the ones to be placed in the medical field.

Charles slowly came up on the males side, Michelangelo had forgot to look further on the woman curious now as to what flowers his male friends would get. He knew it would be a while before their clothing, white graduation gowns, would be changed with the enchanted threading. He smiled slightly bouncing on his heels as the line moved, far faster than he anticipated. He came to the vine where the flowers shifted around the pole and down before one flower bloomed in front of him. Michelangelo smiled as he picked it up watching the color glow to light from the dull orange to a vast shades of orange.

Ushered off the stage he followed after his friend before smiling, they each rolled their eyes already figuring that would be his color choice since the jewel around his neck was. Michelangelo slowly began to notice each of his friends eyes glowing the flowers light. Charles were deep red, Michelangelo smiled with a chuckle.

"Wow, Mikey." Angel said coming over, "I've never seen your blue eyes look so orange." Michelangelo turned his head blushing, "It looks good on you." Angel's flower had been placed in her hair, the vines had wrapped around and into the strangest way pulling it up into a messy bundle, something that Angel was far from, and Michelangelo laughed softly.

"You're flower... doesn't match your attitude, Angel." Charles said poking his own as he watched it shrivel a bit. "Ah... Um... it's dying..."

It was everyone's turn to laugh as the flower turned black and Charles froze. Slowly it grew back to life into a fiery fickle before Charles frowned, "I hate you." Everyone grinned before laughing walking over to the area they were waved to by the teachers.

"Welcome!" Lord Summer, mainly known as Casey Jones, shouted allowing his voice to boom through the dome. "This is a splendid year for us, never have I seen so many of our people so new to the magic and the ways of adulthood look more fantastic with their blossoming flowers then I see this year. No offense to those old like I am... we have ... dulled through this never ceasing war." Michelangelo spotted his brother raised his glass like many others.

"This year, though I am afraid to say to many of you, has come at a high cost. So many of our brothers, our sisters... Our loved ones..." Michelangelo looked up at Lord Summer smile weakly with tears falling down his face. His wife, Lady Winter April O'Neil, had been taken into the brace of the Dusks only a month earlier and found dead only last week. She had been leading Leonardo's team at the time.

Michelangelo only knew this because he had never seen Leonardo come home his eyes so dead, his face so pale, nor his body so marred with blood. Leonardo had spoken only an hour afterwards saying it had been his fault. Leonardo had frozen up when he saw something from his past. Michelangelo had first thought it was the person who defeated him the first time on the battlefield.

A few days had passed before Michelangelo learned the truth eavesdropping on Leonardo and others who survived the incident.

It was Donatello and Raphael. They had...

"-here is where we rise again, stronger than seconds before." Casey Jones raised his hands making Michelangelo look up again at the man, his mind was drifting off a lot today... he hoped it wasn't because he was forcing magic through his body without his flower... He raised his hand slightly clutching his necklace feeling the soft beat coming through from it. It soothed his feelings as he listened more intently.

"Now, graduating class." Michelangelo looked around as did everyone else. "Time to put on your armor, your vows," one of the girls screamed making the class look at her as she was dragged away up into the air.

Michelangelo watched, like all the others graduating, as members of the graduating class were being picked off one by one as Casey Jones kept talking. Michelangelo looked up watching as things... human shaped with wings growing out their wrist were flying around their faces covered in metal and cloth. A thin linen tightly wrapped around their mid stomachs to their waists down to their calves before swirling around each leg fluttering around like a tail. Menacingly.

These were angels. These were the ones who were once like them... gifted with magic and did a great deed in their past life to grant them immortality and a future to help others.

Another scream was heard, Michelangelo's skin crawled as he turned shouting, "Angel!" he reached out trying to grab her wrists as the angle holding her went higher out of his reach. It tilted its head before it flew into the air heading towards the tops of the chapel like building. Michelangelo watched as slowly his friends, classmates, were plucked up one my screaming one.

Michelangelo felt his shell hit someones back, taller than him... "Charles?"

"What... is going on!" Charles said his flower shifting into a mace. "WHERE are they taking them!"

"I don't know." Michelangelo said holding his flower to his chest. He didn't remember this from his last time here. He closed his eyes feeling his magic course through his body before he opened them again and he looked up as a few of the angels circled the two of them in a predatory way. Michelangelo knew in his own way they too would be following after Angel and the others.

"Why are they..." Michelangelo shifted to glance at Charles before he saw his brother's face his head shaking slightly, in a 'Let them' fashion which emphasised on his disgrace knowing his brother didn't know about what was happening.

"I... think they are ... the ones who give us our... clothes..." Michelangelo looked at a few of them. "But... i got this bad time feeling..."

"Me too, buddy... me too." Charles allowed his weapon to dissolve into petals before Michelangelo and Charles were lifted up into the air. A small shout at the sudden loss of air mixed with the sudden high escaping from both of them as they fought back the urge to struggle, afraid of dropping into the tile floor nearly looking a hundred feet below.

'There is nothing to fear, young one.' Michelangelo's head snapped up, 'You are strong, kind, but there is a seed in you we must cover...' the angels covered face touched Michelangelo's cheek making him turn, the metal... it as slowly shining in a spot. The face that looked at him was rotting away, even though the body was beautiful, unmarred by any previous battles Michelangelo could see from the closeness.

'We'll save you... but we can't save you.' It said this as it gently lowered Michelangelo into an opening to what the turtle assumed to be the nest. Michelangelo watched amazed and frightened as his clothing, thread by thread, was undone. His arms moved up to try and stop this only for the thread to moved twining around his wrists then moving like he was being sown into some cocoon.

A hard turn left smacked Michelangelo's head against the wall where he felt frozen for a few seconds, something small crawled along his wrists and legs before vanishing with it the hold. He screamed again as he plummeted downwards before he hit something heavy. Michelangelo coughed as he opened one eye to see one of the vast Angels looking down at him. It's legs bounds like a straight jacket tightly together as if sown. Michelangelo took stock that it was only bound to its ankles. The Angels wrist bore no wings but they were warped wwith loose fabric that tightened slightly before loosening with every move it made.

'Strong will.' its voice pounded in Michelangelo's head as he felt something, not something... a group... a hive! Michelangelo's head snapped to the left looking down and his eyes no longer could grow any widder as he saw the feather shaped spiders weaving across his body. Tears grew as he looked up into the face of what was looking at him.

'You are fine, as are the others...' it walked stiffly over to a cacoon. 'They are being remade, perfect creatures like yourself. Your flower will show these makers what your soul, your magic, needs made. It will be made to match you, so rest... rest...'

Michelangelo cried again as he closed his eyes a tug from the jewel pulling him under a thin veil of what felt like water. As if Michelangelo felt his soul split before his very being, he opened his eyes looking down at an old rat smiling up at him, saying how good he had done today.

Michelangelo head swirled around to look at Leonardo smiling goofing off with Raphael and Donatello holding a first aid kit before looking at him, "Seriously, Mikey, did you have to fall backwards after doing that kick off the mountain at the trash mans?"

Michelangelo heard his voice, not his the Mikey from this world, giggled. This soft scene, this perfect dream, helped to ease the worry Michelangelo felt on what he saw, and felt, in his own world.


	3. Chapter Two

Michelangelo felt the tug at his body. The feeling of hands prying into something wet, pulling at his clothing to drag him free of the sticky, wet cocoon he was tightly bound in. He didn't want to leave the world where 'his family' were having so much fun being so tightly bound in unison.

Michelangelo's eyes opened without his desire as they looked up to stare into Leonardo's glowing blue eyes. A smile lifted the corners of his brothers beak, it had been years since Leonardo smiled so lovingly at him. Michelangelo felt his brother's arms easily lifted Michelangelo's body up before the younger turtle gave a startled call as he couldn't walk right. Though the younger, now awake, turtle looked down at the clothing Michelangelo was now adorned with. Even though it was only cloth it felt like metal had been piled heavily onto his body.

"Michelangelo?" The casual use of his name brought his eyes to his brother again. "Come on, we need to get you home." Leonardo's hands felt like flower petals against Michelangelo's skin as he wrapped the weakened arm over the sturdy shoulders.

"What..." Michelangelo's throat felt parched, his eyes slowly tilted to closing again as he felt how exhausted he was, but the small rumbling from his stomach made him realize his time in the cocoon was longer than he anticipated. He scanned around the room, they were back in the graduating hall, finding empty cacoons scattered around like a spiders feeding ground. He shivered as he drew into his brother finding that he had been one in here, in those things.

Leonardo gave a soft snort of a laughter before Michelangelo gasped turning his full attention to his brother again. Leonardo seemed different. Leonardo was acting as if Michelangelo wasn't... wasn't what? Leonardo never showed this side to Michelangelo not even when they announced that Michelangelo might be killed one day if he ever became a dusk.

Other families would have cried, held him close... Michelangelo sighed before he looked down at his feet. He really wished he understood Leonardo better.

Michelangelo had always enjoyed running around the halls, through the mystic protals, but he had always feared the trouble being so free willed would cause. He had been told, so many times he forgot how many in one day how troublesome it was for others around him and how it made him 'odd' in their eyes. His eyes now, so down cast that the floor could have been nonexistent as the world around. He had not listened to Leonardo talking, to the passing scenery, but when he felt his legs hitting something making him fall forward splashing around in water before turning around looking at his ever annoyed brother he took the time to see again.

"Have you even heard a word I was telling you?" Leonardo throw a bar of soap at Michelangelo who dodge a bit of panic now settling into his face and body. "I'll repeat it then," Michelangelo's eyes grew an inch. Leonardo repeating what he had said was fear in duced horror.

" I said, 'We'll be spending a lot more time together, maybe, so that you can learn the rightful colors. To stand against the Dusks as not only my brother but my fellow fighter.' Now, I'll bring you a towel so you can shower and change before you come out to get some food..." Leonardo turned around suddenly his face growing bright red, "NOT IN FRONT OF ME!"

Michelangelo blinked before looking down at his bare chest, it wasn't Leonardo's first time seeing him shirtless... Leonardo had always been stoic about wearing proper uniform or being alone when ready for showers and the like. He gave a sigh at his eldest brother apologizing before he closed the shower curtain watching his brothers shadow turn slightly at the noise.

"As I was saying before," Leonardo coughed a few times clearing his throat. "You will also be taught the proper conduct that suits our class. Weapons and magic training will begin and also you will be doing the basic grunt work for a while."

"Leonardo," Michelangelo said after he had stripped of all his clothing, "What about my new clothing?" he held them in his arm before Leonardo spluttered obviously not having thought of the 'wet' clothing.

Leonardo went silent before Michelangelo heard something crinkle and he looked up to see a basket being tossed over the bar into his face. He yelped in surprise before falling back down causing the water to ripple flowing over the edge of the tub before he felt his head pounding. Leonardo... Leonardo...

"Are you okay, Michelangelo?" Leonardo asked moving a bit back, "Uh... if you're still among those awake... put your clothing in the basket and I'll take it out when I bring back your towel." Leonardo nervously said stepping to the door in a slight rush to escape the room.

Michelangelo waited for the door to close to laugh as he pulled the basket off his head to look at the ceiling pushing forth his magic to dim the lights making the ceiling turn into a starlight scene. His smile grew sad as he felt a few tears falling down his face. He had lost a small amount of freedom when he graduated.

"How long ago was that?" Michelangelo said standing up pulling the curtain back and stepping out of the bath to properly place the clothing and basket in the place Leonardo always placed his own clothing when he had showered.

His eyes closed as he turned back to the shower seeing the water shimmering slightly orange before turning pitch black while a small sphere rose from the water making his eyes wide all the while he pulled back trying to find something to cover himself up with. He was in the nude and now of all times was no time for one of his friends to summon him or be summoned to him!

"Is this thing on?" Charles's nose appeared in the water before it zoomed out, "Hey... Why are you naked?" Charles chuckled out before the orb spun around and a low whistle came from his lips before the orb was back on Michelangelo who was covering up with one of his wet garments pressed to his nether regions.

"Do you NOT know how to buzz?" he asked walking forward whispering all the while. "Keep your voice down so my brother doesn't hear you! I am NOT going to be put in confines because of your idiocy." Michelangelo gave a soft sigh before walking into the water and dropped the shirt to the ground where it hit with a squelch sound making Michelangelo's stomach slightly turn.

"So..." Charles' eyes didn't leave Michelangelo as Michelangelo moved to the middle of the room sized bathtub.

"Are you rich?"

Of all the things his friend could say... that was not the first that was among them. He turned his eyes up, the orange illuminating his face and slick body a bit, before he picked up the sponge and began to wash, "If you must ask, yes in a way I am."

Again Charles gave a whisper as the orb began to shift into a familiar human form before a small splash was heard where Charles blinked even giving a small chuckle to see Michelangelo's face grow slack and he turned around, "What are you doing! Did you over charge it!"

"I think so... sorry, huh... how do I get back?" of all the things he ever heard his classmate say about the magical essence and law this had to take the cake. To make a portal and not know how to keep the magic at a minimal, separate the transportation of it all... could he be that stupid?

"You need to do the same spell." Michelangelo pointed out turning around his cheeks a bit pink. "And turn it into a transportation spell. That is what you did last time."

Charles smiled as he nodded his red flower and eyes glowing a bit brighter. Michelangelo had always known Charles would be a good fighter but he didn't want his friend to be in his bathroom, soaking wet, with his usual dressings, red due to his class, to be skin tight against his body.

Michelangelo turned his head again one hand above his chest resting on his shoulder while trying to hide as much of himself as he could. His other hand was below the water keeping 'that' area from view even though the dark kept that as it was.

"You okay?" Michelangelo's neck snapped up his head flying over to look at his friends looming muscular build. His blackish brown short cut hair dripping with water and his mussle pulled in a worried line. "Ah, sorry again for just popping in on you when you were bathing... I didn't... you know... mean to peep or anything."

"I... I know." Michelangelo turned his body a bit, "Just... leave before my brother comes in and starts spouting out his normal nonsense."

"Well, I would, but I didn't cast that spell. I touched the orb and ... over charged it, but I didn't cast it." Michelangelo should have figured! Charles had always received minimal marks in magic casting. He couldn't use a simple wind charm let alone a complicated energy consuming portal. Even he had problems keeping one stable for longer than five minutes.

"I'll cast you one, but... could you turn around, this is embarrassing being naked." Charles chuckled before leaning in a bit, "What are... you ...doing?" Michelangelo spluttered as Charles raised one of Michelangelo's arms.

"You're a lot thinner than your brother." if his mouth could have dislocated from his jaw Michelangelo knew it would be at the bottom of the pool. How could his friend insinuate he was more... feminine then his brother who wore such revealing clothing! "It's kinda cute in the way you're blushing."

"And you're going to end up falling to the dusks!" Michelangelo turned back around yanking his hand out of Charles's grip before he began to cast. His skin slightly glowing, his flower over against the wall shining illuminating the room brighter, and his necklace rose slightly against his chest before he saw the portal rising up from the water. He pictured one of the most public places but opted against it and thought of where his friend must have came from.

Two options hit him: Charles house or Emily's. Either way his friend would be in safe hands.

"Michelangelo," Leonardo's voice came from the door as it slowly began to open. Michelangelo's concentration stopped making the water return normal with a bit of a splash. His head whipped around looking at the door open wider before he grabbed Charles, who blinked, before pushing him to stand in front of Michelangelo's chest.

"Go under the water!" Michelangelo said eyes huge with fear. "DON'T come up until I drag you up!"

Charles looked over at the door nodding, he understood the situation. He might slack on the moral code often but with one as high in the ranks and a black cloth Dawn soon to enter the room where his baby brother was showering, naked, with another person in the bath... yeah, that was against the rules and an early death for both parties whether they were participating or not.  
Charles took a deep breath as he went under the water, his hands reaching out grabbing Michelangelo's legs, who blushed as Charles meshed his face against his lower plastron, an area Michelangelo knew very well was going to infuriate his brother if he saw this scene.

Leonardo's head popped out the door before he looked over blinking before turning his head, "Close the curtain, Michelangelo, showering is suppose to be private not for the world to see! What if a Dusk were to walk in here? Or some of the other blacks." He walked in lifting up the clothing, sighing at his brother's mess, before placing it in the basket. "And why are the lights off? It's bad to shower without the magical glow."

"L-Leonardo, I just wanted them off." Michelangelo turned his head the grip from Charles arms tightening and he felt something rush through him as his friend nuzzled his face into his crotch, he might be a turtle and with his sexual organs inside hidden but that didn't mean that a bit of pressure right there combined with how... awkward... wouldn't make him feel like that.

A sin. That was what was happening now with Charles. This emotion was a sin to feel without the elders blessings for his mate or given a mate if the elders deemed it was demanded of him.

"Are you okay?" Leonardo moved slightly closer to look at his brother wondering if something might be bothering him.

"I'm fine, just... can you leave so I... can bathe?" Leonardo blushed turning around mumbling 'Yes yes' in a fast manner, a towel left on the table with fresh white clothing from his school days, before he was out the door with it closing with a small click.

Michelangelo sighed relaxing his muscles before he felt his body being lifted into the air, a loud gasp from lungs to inhale air, and he looked down gripping his friend's arms to support himself as Charles said with each deep pant, "You're very skinny and light."

Michelangelo blushed harder as he slightly struggled to get free, "Well Thank You for pointing that out!"

He struggled harder, "Let me -!" he felt Charles slowly lower him as Charles face rubbed against his plastron and his arms sliding up the sensitive skin on his flesh sides holding his shell and plastron together from falling off.

"Something wrong?" Charles set Michelangelo down who turned panting a bit at the strange feeling, not unwelcomed but not wanted again. "Ah... Michelangelo?"

"Next time... don't cling to me." Michelangelo turned around feeling more like a girl stuck in a sinful situation. "And visit through the front door, this ... is sinful."

Charles shook his head the fur splattering water in all directions, "Yeah, will do." he yawned a bit, "Well, you sending me home or am I heading out through the front door?"

Michelangelo hissed in anger before rechanneling the spell. His friend at most times was annoying and rather brash but he did feel a small chuckle in the back of his throat because he also was one who was like Michelangelo. Different.

The clothing, he never noticed before, always showed how thin he was. It was Leonardo who always shopped for him because his brother rejected any idea that Michelangelo wore color thus it was black or white. He sighed walking out of the bathroom spotting the dishes on the table with fresh food.

Leonardo sat already in his chair looking at his flower like he did every night. Michelangelo sat down, bowing his head thanking the light for his food and his brother for preparing it.

"Michelangelo?" Leonardo asked as Michelangelo was halfway through dinner.

"Yes, brother?" Michelangelo set his chopsticks down looking up at his brother.

"Who was in the bath with you?" Michelangelo's face paled as he looked at his brother a weak grin followed by a chuckle came from him as he turned his head to the left.

"I don't know what you're talking about." he stuttered out even as the glare from Leonardo grew at how annoyed he was from the obvious lie. Michelangelo moved back a bit so he had room to run as Leonardo also moved slightly. The sound of his brother getting up made his arms tighten gripping his knees along with the fabric clenched in his hands.

"Michelangelo," Leonardo's voice was stern as he walked across the small table to his brother, "why were you taking a bath with another person?"

Michelangelo bit his lip eyes searching the floor trying to piece together his words so that he could perfectly explain the situation and the conditions that often happened around why Charles usually came and talked to him. Charles always did this, always contacted him...

"Michelangelo." Leonard's voice dropped down, the murderous tone so evident that Michelangelo's scales slowly stood on end and he lifted his eyes his head not moving the down position. His eyes rested on the middle of Leonardo's chest. "Did you two do anything while I was not in there."

Michelangelo's eyes widened as his jaw slowly fell down as his head snapped up shaking 'No' in a wild movement. His heart pounded in his chest as Leonardo squatted down, Michelangelo's head and eyes following, "Do they do this often?"

"No!" Michelangelo didn't mean to shout, his eyes closing expecting his brother to yell at him about the proper tone to use inside a building. "I mean... no, this is the first time he's tried... a spell like that... he just charged it too much making it a transpor...tation... spell." Michelangelo turned his head down for the third time eyes squeezed close his body tense before Leonardo's presence left in front of him. The slamming of a door made Michelangelo jump falling out of the chair and he looked at the door before taking deep heavy breaths to calm his heart.

What... happened?

The mirror, crystallized water, shown in front of him slightly see through to see the vibrant view of the marble floors and the five star pillars that climbed high in the library. He had came through the portal created after the urgent message from Emily involving Charles. He had been surprised to hear from Emily, he had gotten wind only two days after he woke up she had been transferred to a different district in the Fall land.

Now, the crystallized water slowly melting into a orb he lifted up a vial as crystal water filled it up before he put it back into his bag. He took a deep breath and started walking around tentatively. He couldn't hear anything but his heart started beating as many students of various ages looked at him.

Yes, he had taken to wearing his uniform like his brother but it wasn't because he wanted to. The first day he had opted for normal clothing but Leonardo sent him back into his room making sure he came out dressed in his proper gear. Something about getting use to the weight and the full extent of the gifted outfit.

Unlike his brother, whose outfit would be considered a sin if it was regular cloth, the angels had gifted Michelangelo the black cloth that covered him from head to toe. His shoes were nearly plan cloth like the medics providing him swifter movements. The folds of his fabric in his pants tucked in by light thin leather stips cut thin into threads.

The pants were loose from the waste below yet tight just below the knee. They suited him, more then he had ever thought would because even his brothers was a pain for Michelangelo to even bare looking at. It was the same with most other blacks he had been meeting with the last day and a half.

His shirt was long sleeved the fabric trailing down to reach slightly below his waist. The collar reached to his chin the fabric buttoned up from the inside the thin line could be seen as the magic kept that hidden unlike any traces that many normal fabric would have.

A thin woven thread wrapped around his waist, loose yet oddly strong to tie his pants up. Though on more than one occasion he had to pull them up because of his thin waist. It had gotten thinner from the stress that now surrounded him more.

"Emily?" Michelangelo called out raising his gloved hands up to make it seem a bit louder even though it was barely a whisper. "Charles?" The four tails on his mask shifted as he turned his head a small orange petal falling down past his left eye. He frowned before something was tossed at his head.

He blinked before another hit his face. Looking down he saw the items, rocks, slowly melt into the stone. He shook his head at the childish antics of none other than Charles. He pivoted on his heel to walk over to Charles and Emily, Emily holding onto Charles arm jumping up and down trying to grab the pebbles.

"Why did you call me?" he asked with a smug grin wrapping his arms around his chest.  
The two froze before they stood at attention, the normal way to greet any person in an informal way.

"We ... heard you were being put into the training camp your... brother runs..." Emily said her thumb on her bottom lip her eyes darting left while her hips moved slightly. "Charles said... it was because of... what happened a few days ago." Her eyes snapped onto Michelangelo's glowing orange and Michelangelo blushed at the intensity in them. "Did Charles do anything to you while you were bathing!"

It was a low whisper, thankfully, and Michelangelo stepped back even as Charles fell to the ground the fur hiding his own blush.

"No!" Michelangelo stated stepping closer, Charles now up and standing also moving into the circle. "It's not like that! Why do you think that!"

The look that Emily had before she shot a glare at Charles was enough that Michelangelo sighed. It wasn't above Charles, how stupid of him to think what he had said. Charles, a member of the wolf clan, were known for their habitual advantages. They were owned by their animal instincts for 'sinning' why else would Charles be so easily dismissed for half the things he did when he entered puberty.

"Yeah, I'm leaving with my brother tomorrow." Michelangelo said smiling as he moved to find a seat and table. "My brother has been annoyed at several growing problems since I awoke."

"Oh?" Emily said clearly interested in this. Emily, his dearest friend, had a habit of spreading rumours and the oddest of gossips that she fabricated from the truth. Like the one time she had stumbled in on Michelangelo stretching with another turtle type person from a different year class.

It had been hell when she came up to him demanding to know if he truely was a female and how disgusting it was that he had easily took off his shirt in public. He had been so stunned because, to him, she had pointed at his figure stating she should have known.

Emily paid dearly for it not by his own hands but by Leonardo's who came to school that day his eyes glowing so brightly. His sword out. His clothing swirling around him. He remembered her face as he pointed the tip of the blade at her throat and said, 'If another suitor for my brother comes to my house again for his hand I will promise your life will be hell under the black thumb.'

She had been absent for two weeks after that by her family and the elders. The punishment was shame to be placed on her head. It was a time where their bond grew and Emily never joked about how feminist he was again.

"Michelangelo," Her voice took on a sadder tone, "I hope the three of us will be together again."

"Yeah," Charles rested his clawed hands on Michelangelo's shoulders, "I'll miss my buddy." He rubbed his cheek against Michelangelo's head before growling, "And you're brother is... horrible." He pulled back up walking over to Emily's side standing with his arms crossed his torso , eyes narrowed looking more like the soldier class he had been assigned to a week earlier.

How shameful that Charles was the first to wake up nearly two weeks before Michelangelo!

Michelangelo turned his head frowning, "Thanks for worrying for me." Slowly he felt Emily stand up before the cool crisp of her power wafted around him.

"Michelangelo Hamato, black of the Hamato clan of the ninth original families. Brother of the elite leader of the military force, Leonardo Hamato. Friend to Charles Astrand, next leader of the Wolfan. Third son of Etla family. I, Emily Anderson, wish you fair well on your journey." She bowed down, "May the light stay with you and the flower petals plant the seeds of your efforts amongst your time reborn."

Michelangelo looked at Emily smiling as Charles straightened his posture, "Michelangelo Hamato, fighter of the magic, one who stands tall amongst the gore of the Dusks' sins. I, next in line of the Wolfan, request that in our next meeting we celebrate our front line battles with the traditional Wolfan celebration. A friendly spar between war comrades in arms."

Michelangelo stood up also his feet spread slightly before his left hand crossed his chest resting above his heart, his right drew behind him resting at a odd angel for most people but for his family an easy trick.

He bowed his head as he said the traditional farewell from his family, "Emily Anderson, Charles Astrand. Let the light shine on your souls, no sin to touch such beautiful flowers. Let no taint cross your body and no shame enter your blood."

He lifted his head smiling softly, "Let your flowers and souls merge and be the sun so when we meet again, battlefield or in our gracious home, we shall twine our thorns together and let the songs of old grace our ears as we dine on a feast of magnificent standing. I, Hamato Michelangelo, give you farewell. Forever shall your friendship and names be etched amongst my heart and memories that no Dusk will tear asunder." **  
**


	4. Chapter Three

Michelangelo's last memory of a childhood was when everything was happy and cherished. When Donatello and Raphael were still with them. Leonardo had never been so rough with him, never so violent when he did something wrong, but loving and always displayed how much he cared about their attempts.

Donatello suddenly vanishing in the night, never saying a word to the eldest, had taken a bit of Leonardo's love away. His eyes dulled and his words turned colder towards his two remaining brothers. Even when they were clinging to his legs crying as the small bruises would appear on their arms from a small mistake of being 'sinful': hugging Leonardo in public.

"Michelangelo," Soft words that nudged with their sound of each syllable didn't even budge the sleeping turtle up but threw Michelangelo's mind in more turmoil.

The memories stung his eyes as he felt something light grip his arm. The slight pressure made his body freeze while his brain drifted to after the time Raphael had left. To when he had been given the necklace. He had been considered for a month as an enemy.

Leonardo, his eldest brother, had visited often as the interrogator. Had come waving the flower across his chest as he began degrading Michelangelo for such words... such sinful words and actions... along other things.

The tears stung harder as they came faster. He struggled to move but the grip on his arm tightened making him feel the pain of what Leonardo did that one time as a child to reprimand him...

"You're pathetic." Leonardo had said only a few days before Michelangelo was cleared from the records. "They had the decency to leave! They had the guts to go where they wanted... YOU just stayed." the glowering look, the heavy panting breathing, the fear and shame Michelangelo felt only sharpened at Leonardo's next word, "Pathetic."

The pain that laced through his arm at the sudden tightened grip the harsh twist of hand on scales in a indian burn then slowly just the feeling of his brother's hands swiftlyg moving to trail from his beak downwards slightly to grip his throat. A thumb reaching up to push into his mouth to hold his tongue down silencing any sounds.

He remembered all of these things that had happened but even as they came to the forefront of his mind they vanished as he opened his eyes looking up into Leonardo's cold blue glowing eyes the small shine of concern there but it faded instantly when Michelangelo identified it.

"Michelangelo?" Michelangelo blushed feeling the hot air of his brothers breath caress his neck and beak. The look of worry and something else flashed across Leonardo's eyes making Michelangelo confused before he pulled back turning his head a look of small confusion on his face, "It is about time you woke up. Training started five minutes ago." The tone turned harsh as Leonardo stood up his hands gripping his cloak as he walked out of the room growling out words for Michelangelo to get dressed and meet him with the other black robes in the training grounds.

Michelangelo pushed himself up onto his feet hissing at the pain that laced through his body, the small bumps and bruises showing against his green skin. He took a deep breath as he stumbled to his folded clothing sat in the center of the table on the other side of the room. His eyes slightly faded in before he closed them feeling with the tip of his fingers the hard smooth edge of the furniture in which his black outfit sat.

A deep breath came as he opened them forcing them to focus on the fabric. In only a week he had been reduced to a whining child weakly trying to stay alive with the other men laughing at him.

"How shameful." Michelangelo said as he stood up on quivering legs pulling the night gown up over his body. He set night clothing aside, artistically folding it before hand, then he grabbed the pants tugging them on slowly over his ass. His brain only focusing on one thing at a time being: Leo will be back, get done soon.

A small noise outside caused him to look over at the door nearly falling down as the blast shook the whole foundation of the camp. He stood up, all his weight put against the table, before he grabbed his shirt, shoes, bracers, and gloves. He walked over to the door, mask slowly stitching itself to his face from his magic. The flower floating from the desk twinned itself, thorns and all, in the tails that flowed out from behind Michelangelo as the orange magic user opened the door allowing the dust to come in covering his body as he coughed.

"GET THEM OUT OF THERE!" Leonardo's voice shouted over the noise of screaming and other things that made almost no sense. "This isn't a break! We are preparing for battle! WORK together as a team!"

He admired his brother so much but at the same time this brother in front of him his eyes wide with the battle edge. Lips pulled smirking and his body littered with rubble clinging into his fabric or his skin.

"Michelangelo!" A black came to his tent grabbing his arm, he barely had time to look up at the man to see that he was a close range fighter, before he was dragged into the fray and saw what was attacking them for training.

Green fighters, their clothing shifting in and out of the forest scenery. He almost wanted to shout that he couldn't go any closer but the man didn't let up as he continued to pull him into the swarm of people. Michelangelo's legs ached as they fell a couple of times before his shoulder was yanked up with a ripping feeling at his joint to keep him walking.

He held back the pain before the hand let go, his breathing was raging in his chest nearly impossible for him to mutter an incantation. His eyes carefully scanned the area before he felt the slither of a spell crossing over his skin. He moved rolling across the ground, under a bush, before his spell hit the tree making him grunt his focus lost working on his own incantation of protection.

"Oh dear!" Michelangelo's eyes lifted up seeing a Green robed frog hopping over to him before it croaked his laughter. "Hello, hello! Welcome!"

The frog was new to this exercise as was Michelangelo for why else would it... Michelangelo's eyes widened as he got up dashing from his spot as another thing, a cat he spotted, fell into the area he was once curled against. He closed his eyes thinking of any spell he knew, protection of his own self was out of the question with how in combat quarters they were 'practicing'.

This wasn't his field! That Black dragged him into the midst of the commotion without even realizing that Michelangelo was a distant fighter. He couldn't-.

Michelangelo opened his eyes shifting his stance smiling, he could fight close combat! How stupid was he? He had watched, felt, each move that the other he took time to watch did.

"Come, Eral of the night, brace my hands with your cold steel. Let me fight, but guard." he whispered as he felt his skin and joints becoming stiff. He watched the two looking at each other before they began running in opposite directions forcing Michelangelo to shift to look at the cat, the most deadliest in his opinion, and he shouted in pain his mind slipping allowing his arms to dull a bit.

"Letting your guard down to a frog!" the frog laughed as Michelangelo fell to the ground as the cat raised his hands.

Michelangelo forced his focus onto his forearms as he raised them over his head. He could feel the pain rushing over him even as the scratches drew blood.

"Whaa..." the frog hopped around, "You should not be able!" the frog said in anger. "You are weak! No fighter! Magic isn't for close-."

"I fight both ways!" Michelangelo spat out flipping onto his shell using a small incantation of wind to turn him causing the air, leaves, and surrounds to form into a cyclone.

"Pull back!" the cat finally spoke his claws digging into the ground as the frog was pulled in not having the luxury. "Get him to stop!"

The sound was like a humming but he still could hear the sound rounding on the wind being pull upwards.

"Michelangelo," It was his brother's voice. "The training is over, release your spell." The presence in his head dulled before going out with a small trace of a fingers against his skin. He sat down back onto his feet eyes closed as he felt his body pulling to be submerged into the dark. He watched as his flower petals slowly fell past his face from his mask as he saw black clothing, not his brothers, grab his arms hauling him up onto his feet.

"Good job, kid." one of them, sounded like the one who dragged him... he wasn't sure truthfully.

His legs were lifted up off the ground before he was flung into the arms of one of the blacks, again not his brother, and they began walking back to their camp. He overheard a few people talking saying it was strange seeing a magical user able to do such a complicated spell. The tone of his brother soon met his ears making him smile as he was praised with a few small words. It was enough to know that he wasn't hated by his brother for how weak he was.

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His arms had been bandaged before wrapped around his chest so that his hands were nearly resting against his chest criss crossed pattern. He could feel the pain beating through him. His head spinning as his eyes came in and out of focus. He knew what was happening because he had seen Leonardo go through this once when he came home. He refused to even accept anyone to come in from his group to check on his condition when Michelangelo had went out saying that he was fearful for how Leonardo was confined to his bed.

To think he'd be forced in that position now only after casting two spells at the least. Yes one was a higher class that was technically forbidden for him to cast, or would have if he was any color other than black to wear. No one would have thought he'd actually cast a suicide spell but he really felt like he had no choice. It could have been from his exhaustion but the doctor had said that he was even past that.

He had even placed his flower into a special healing water because of how the petals continued to fall fluttering before burning. It was only when ones flower began to show sign of turmoil that people knew someone had been pushed past their limits of both sanity and strength. He closed his eyes feeling the sleep waft like a warmth wool blanket being draped over his body. His lids heavy as he felt the black abyss in his mind.

He could hear the laughter of his counterpart, feel the muscles under his skin move as he danced to some unfamiliar beat. Next to him was Leonardo his hands above his head as his eyes were close. His brother looked so peaceful as if he was having fun not pretending to be something other than himself.

He heard his voice say something and a small blush came up to Leo's face as he turned his head looking at Michelangelo before shaking his head smiling as he said something also. Strange... normally he could hear what was being said.

Slowly the music changed as Michelangelo felt the atmosphere also switch as Leo blushed only slightly, but it was HIS face that was on fire. The look that ghosted over Leo's eyes, his mouth slowly falling open, the hands reaching out grabbing his wrists pulling him into his brother's body. The small feel of two three fingered hands gripping below his waist on the outside of his thighs. His face grew hotter as he felt his beak buried in Leo's neck breathing heavily as he began to pant a small throbbing below making Leo chuckle in his ear as he said something that finally came through the murky water feeling, "Do you want me that badly inside you, baby brother?"

The shock of hearing those words spoke so low in Leo's voice, the small feeling as Leo's hands expertly ghosted to the back his finger touching something Michelangelo never really thought existed to feel THAT good. Yet it wasn't as good as Leonardo slowly grinding into him making him moan, his legs weak...

His eyes opened his breathing labored as he looked around trying to figure out where he was. He turned his body, allowing his mind to clear up as the pain laced through him sending him to fall flat on his arms a small groan as tears escaped. He could barely believe what he saw … what he still felt lingering over his skin. The words ghosting over his ear or...

He moaned closing his eyes feeling the feelings return as he wanted that touch, wanted that motion again, he moaned louder as he failed to feel any part of his body. The pain only seemed to add to the pleasure as if someone was touching him, holding him down softly but with such a firm bruising grip- he felt utterly lost.

"Michelangelo?" Leonardo came into the room looking at his brother, "What are you doing on the floor?" his brother was at his side before he even though the turtle brother had moved. His hands gripping Michelangelo's shoulders lifting him up as they slide down taking the crossed arms into his palms for a grip.

The pain exploded making him moan again eyes half opened before looking at Leonardo who froze. Something so small flickered to life under the cold stone gaze of winter and hatred in those shining orbs. Michelangelo watched as his brother licked his lower lip slightly before he returned to lifting Michelangelo up to sit on his legs with a traditional japanese style, yes he knew this from that world... he looked at Leonardo again as his brother looked at him in the eyes.

The look turned ravenous as Leonardo leaned in, Michelangelo's brain stilling on just Leonardo's eyes, his beak inches from Michelangelo's, "Are you okay?" it was husky as he spoke his hand resting on Michelangelo's chest, right where the feeling of heat swelled within Michelangelo's body.

He knew his brother could feel it, knew the look on Leonardo's face was growing too strong for his will to defeat and push back, but that look brought fear into Michelangelo's core. Something Leonardo had did or done before that time... what time?

"Leonardo," Michelangelo whined softly, "This... is a sin..." Leonardo pressed harder against Michelangelo making his head fall back, "You... should not... con-." Leonardo's hand moved and Michelangelo whined. Leonardo looked disgusted suddenly, the rage that Leonardo displayed at a 'sin' shining with sadistic pleasure.

Michelangelo cowered as the fingers gripped his throat squeezing as Leonardo said, so darkly … so much emotions bundled together, "I will not fall into the Dusks!" he spat, "I will not give into anything that will take me away from my PATH!" he had leaned in straddling Michelangelo's legs, "I will not be tempted by something so... foul and you, Michelangelo... stop messing around with my head!" and the pressure eased as Leonardo sat there, fingers grazing his throat, before he stood leaving the room and his baby brother,Michelangelo, crying knowing Leonardo did something horrible as this to him.

He shouldn't have saw that sin, shouldn't have been affected by it... shouldn't have wanted that feeling that his other was probably now feeling at the hands of that Leonardo...

He cried as he moved feeling the pain, no longer pleasure wrapped up into it, to stay awake and away from ever feeling that way again.

The time was unaware to Michelangelo as he moved, methodically, through the weeks. His mind dull as he thought of nothing but the incantations: protection, defence, offense, and the ever so occasional mass homicidal ones. These usually placed him back in his brother's room where he'd smile looking around the room fighting off the much needed sleep, his flower off to the side drowning in the magical suave before he was trapped, always trapped by his pendant, in the world where he felt so much pleasure and so much disgust.

He hated himself but the love of being touched, caressed so hopefully, so passionately...

Today though was different then the times on the camps where he came across his friends from school but none of them even tried to talk to him on their breaks. Not one of them even seemed to want anything to do with a black who had caused such disgust. It was hurtful because they had said nothing would tear them apart, not even color.

Though Michelangelo enjoyed being alone it also hurt him, today was no different. His brother had allowed him to easily move around the camps of the Red district today, they had not fought in a week, and he smiled seeing a few nervous looks.

Yes, fear the black... fear the one who has only done what he was ordered to... fear him because he was one of the elite... FEAR him because he was Michelangelo the cursed brat of the Hamato clan! Of the facts piling against him because of the necklace around his throat along the chain of his brothers pierced through his skin the day he graduated.

Michelangelo paused as someone grabbed his arm. His eyes narrowed as he stated in a tone so similar to Leonardo's, "Release me now, Red, I am in no mood for a brawl."

"Calm down, my friend." A slightly jog on Michelangelo's memories hit him before he turned looking at the one holding his arm in a firm grip. "It's me, Charles... god you look like a Dusk."

That lingo was used often for Black Dawns. Dusks only wore black, their clothes tinted the color of their passion. The darker the color the more their passion grew. Donatello was a near midnight purple... Leonardo had said that once. Raphael was nearly a deep blood red so thick that even black would not hide the color.

He shivered turning to look further at his friend, "And you look like you've been in hell's front gates like an angel for slaughter." the context was out of his usual character that Charles knew for the turtle... but Hell was always a character changer.

"Let me buy you something to drink, okay... you look like you'll need it... I know a great spa in the Red's training camp..." Was Charles just concerned for him or was it something else? Michelangelo had become devoid and dislocated from any groups or conversation. He had isolated himself during his sleep, even after that incident with his brother, so that no one would see the growing feelings in his heart that were stitching themselves into his eyes.

"That.. would be nice." He smiled as he followed after his friend. A few glances were shot his way but the looks at Charles were confusion mixed with such worry. They must respect his friend if they were worried so much about him. Red's were the fighters, second to the Blacks, and they were the most skilled... but their true strength was that they stood together tell the bitter end.

'What about us blacks?' Michelangelo questioned as he turned into a building his eyes low on the ground. He felt the looks, the icy glares. He felt the sheer animosity of the room that he wanted to choke but that wasn't what a proud Black like his brother would do. If he did that... he'd be hurt...

"Is there something you find interesting?" the magic wafted off his body as he turned his eyes, the glow was different around his body as the smile turned demented. The look in his eyes growing with lust, with such sin, but that was a black for you when you threatened their pride. They would become one of the sinful to make you suffer. They would take the sin that would fester in your heart...

The music of the room suddenly filled his ears making the look vanish as he turned looking at the stiff muscles of the men in the room. If the music was making them... Michelangelo's eyes widened as he turned around feeling... oh god what was he feeling pressing down against his body trying to force him to the floor?

The spot, so small, distorted the space of the area in the room. The men stood up, most half naked humans since humans were so prideful with their saying of never leave a person behind, and they rushed behind him almost as if they were seeking refuge behind something, in their eyes, that would protect them.

He might be a black but he was no stronger than they were! His anger grew as he watched a hand reach out grabbing onto the air, Michelangelo saw the distorted space tighten like cloth in the clenched hand. Watched as the hand pulled forward out of the space its body slowly appearing in a deep red, no... blood red... so old the blood it nearly was black... so old that the stains were in the clothing... on its face soaked into the mask. The horns on its head went up past its skull before dropping down to meet only inches from the eyes on either side.

It's eyes were red as its mouth opened taking in a deep breath before the pupils lifted up, flickers of gold mixed in with blood red... oh god... blood, so much blood was a stench on the thing in front of him.

Slowly it fully appeared in the bathhouse, eyes roaming over the naked men with a sly lecherous grin, before on the only black, on Michelangelo.

"I thought I felt something pleasant here." the voice was gruff, the tone teasing, but Michelangelo would never forget the underneath vibrations that lulled him to sleep night after night when he had been punished. The voice of anger that would tease or argue with Leonardo.

"R-Raphael?" he stepped forwards eyes opened wide in shock. This... couldn't be... his brother?

"Oh!" the smile grew as Raphael rushed over wrapping his arms around Michelangelo nuzzling into his neck licking slightly up before pulling back giving his brother a once over, "Black suits you, yes it does." he grinned before looking around at the other men around before back at his brother a small pout on his face, "Were you seriously going to have that much fun!" he whined.

Michelangelo blinked, his mind couldn't process what was happening. Did... Raphael just lick him? Did Raphael just hug him? Did Raphael just say he was going to have … sin … what? He looked up at Raphael who looked at him as if there was no care in the world.

Michelangelo took this time to view his brother, so long missed, and assert what situation this might be. Though he felt Charles behind him growling his flower shifting obviously by the feel in the air. The magic from all the other reds as they realized what was in front of them happily greeting a black like it was normal everyday occurrence.  
 **  
Michelangelo closed his eyes before opening them swiping his hand so that Raphael dropped his arms to avoid the cut from the metal coating his fingers from the spell he cast in those few short seconds.**

The look in Raphael's eyes changed as he stepped back the smile growing as it turned from calm and collective to that of the borderline psychotic all Dusks wore. The looked pained Michelangelo due to the earlier words Charles said, 'You look like a Dusk.' how much those words stung now.

"Raphael!" the words left his mouth like a whipped dog he was, the tears building behind his eyes that fell into the fabric of his mask, "By order of the light, you are to be cleansed." He shifted though... a feeling of chaotic bliss flowed through him.

"Well, I don't want to fight..." Raphael pouted sticking out his hips to the side his pointing finger on his lips as he pouted, "I felt something fun... I only wanted to see what it was..." the look grew more pathetic by the second as he looked his brother over. Though his eyes changed as his body grew weak his arms dangling at his side, "Dear brother."

Michelangelo felt the shiver rollin over his skin, pleasure filling every pore in his body as he began panting but the connection between their eyes could not be broken, "I can't wait to see you again... Can't wait to feel that skin without that clothe protecting it..." the smile grew lustful as slowly his body began to dissolve. "I hope you don't get too … overpowered by the music of that flower."

Michelangelo's eyes grew wide as he only saw Raphael's left eye, snapping out of the trance, before he felt the arms wrapped around his body. his hand outstretched desperately trying to grasp Raphael as he was vanishing. He didn't remember moving, didn't remember the tears flowing down his face, didn't even feel the breath as someone shouted his name... All he could even feel pulsing around the air was his brother... that power...

"Michelangelo!" Charles said lowly, "You must snap out of it! The monster is gone!" Charles arms were fully wrapped around his body his muscles bulging but it wasn't him alone... all the men were holding him back.

The small turn of his eyes showed their horrified expression, not directed at him but directed over their fear of what had appeared inside a protection spell. It would spell a pandemic of fear, thoughts would build... He had to take control of this situation because no one had come in, no one had left and the slithering against his skin like a fire from a pistol while the backlash from whatever spell Raphael had done took effect hit him all at once.

He dropped to his knees coughing as he vomited. Charles dropped to his side fear on his face as Michelangelo said between each hacking cough, "Confine... them all... this is... an order..." A black was to be followed... A black was the law... nothing was above a black but the elders and a black's Leader.

Who better to lead then the devil living in hell?  
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	5. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meeting new people is fun but there is always a 'wow' factor that can lead one into another realm. Can Michelangelo survive this or will he be swallowed?

Both Red and Black clothed Dawns watched at a hopeful safe distance as Leonardo looked at the smaller slimmer black with whom he had blood relations with, Michelangelo, whose head was bowed, biting his lower beak enough that it bled. It was a situation that many did not want to be in with the leader of the Blacks. Leonardo Hamato, one of the ruthless, uncaring, sadistic, and high standard blacks. Leonardo had just finished a morally degrading- many would also like to think mentally- speech to all of them there. He had spat out that if the Dusk had wanted to do something when it came in to their sanctuary instead of toying with their minds and to scout out the new 'recruits' then they all would all have been dead due to their lack of reaction and survival instincts.

The look that crossed Leonardo's face made the two different colored groups shiver. Leonardo turned his head eyes flashing a darker yet brighter blue when they landed on the younger turtle, "Michelangelo."

Michelangelo, orange flower wilting just slightly with his fear, looked up to his brother. Michelangelo's eyes widened all the while his lower lip quivering ever so slightly, "As punishment for not engaging, to falling prey to that things power..." the look grew on the older brother's face as Leonardo stepped forward a sort of twitching under his eyes that showed his 'concern' for the younger turtle. The crowd held their breath as Leonardo knelt down grabbing the material of his brother's shirt and yanking him forward, "Why don't you show me what you should have done instead of being the weak, pathetic, sorry excuse of a Hamato. To bear that name and still snivel in front of the enemy, hold your hand out to have them 'whisk' you away..." he leaned in, "I should just kill you, traitor."

Michelangelo shifted his gaze, a few tears growing at the corners of his eyes, before Leonardo pulled back. He had spoken those words so low that only Michelangelo knew what was spoken. To the others around them it looked as if it was only a growl and a glare that was given from the older brother to the younger.

"Brother," Leonardo looked at Michelangelo, "let us fight then. If I were you I would take my punishment as a proud black." A small cheer went through the black side hearing the words.

Leonardo blue flame like orbs that represented his eyes were trao;ed over them all silencing them before Leonardo nodded moving away a few paces turning his hand as he went, the one always clutching the rose so blue even the sky was envious when he fought, until the petals slowly developed into a long slightly curving blade looking in all remarks tothe other 'Leonardo's' katana. The metal wasn't silver it was midnight blue with a glow so demonic that it showed enough of Leonardo's disdain.

The crowd backed up allowing room as the two brothers looked at each other. Some worried over this sudden development but others knew it was something common for blacks.

"I'm sorry," Michelangelo said with a faint smile. "I... didn't mean to be weak."

"Then stop being weak now." Leonardo charged swinging his katana in a low arc from his left side. His body turned with the move giving it more momentum along with a deadly penetration.

Leonardo's eyes went wide as he started seeing the wind forming around Michelangelo's body when he too took a shift for a more defensive stance. The blade bounced against the wind, inches from Michelangelo's face, before being sent backwards. The older brother rolled with the block coming low to the ground as he skidded to a stop. His knee scraped against the ground to keep his balance but his eyes never left his brother.

The air of confidence was lacking in the thin feminine frame all the while as he stared the determination was faltering in Michelangelo's eyes... Leonardo didn't like this sign of weakness in any of his men, not even in his brother.

Standing up again he looked over his sword lifting it up near his left eye before moving, the sword slicing around him almost creating the illusion he had more than just one. Michelangelo knew this move, he had felt it before and lost, slowly began to back up.

If he was hit the wounds would be deeper than a normal spar he occasionally had during practice with his older brother. Leonardo was dead serious... He really meant to kill the 'traitor'... Michelangelo felt the fear ripping at his stomach before he shifted his stance widen his right hand grabbing the flower in his mask, still so weak of a flower, before casting another spell. More complex, more time consuming, and he wasn't sure how he would last if it went wrong.

"Oh hear me, please, and let this work." Michelangelo felt the spell course through his mind as it lashed around him in a cold thread seemingly like liquid before slowly falling to the ground taking form joint by joint of his brother, Leonardo. The head was the last to be made before the eyes opened, hollow empty eyes. They looked at Leonardo, who faltered enough his sword became singular again, until the thing stepped forward.

To those around them they only blinked wondering what this thing was. To those who knew magic they cheered seeing Leonardo step back away from the doll as it slowly began to fall apart.

"Wha-." Leonardo said as he reached the crowed even as the face in front of him smirked a sword developing in its hand as it raised it up.

"Chop his head off!" Michelangelo ordered sternly but tears of fear laced his face. The doll raised the sword nearly identical to the one in Leonardo's hands above its head. It turned it to a angle before widening its stance bringing the sword down to strike the real Leonardo across the chest.

The thing about being a soldier is your feelings are never accepted by anyone. You can't cry without being punished. Can't love without being called weak. The worst of it all was you can't feel scared because you'd be shipped out on the front lines without training, without a single friend you hold dear, and you would lose your life in the end of things. Alone. Scared. Desperately crying to be with someone in the end even if it was the enemy.

Michelangelo could barely hide his own feelings as he looked over at the barracks he was in. There in the corner was two men, licking their blades, and their eyes would occasionally look him up and down. They were judging him. They were judging him because a black did not look like anything like the scrawny boy turtle who had far too much female attributes or used magic.

"Well?" Charles walked over handing him a cup before jumping up onto the top bunk. "Looks like we get to be friends even out in the middle of war."

Michelangelo recorrected his terms of being alone as his eyes trailed up to Charles of the Wolfan and he smiled, "Yeah... i guess so..." he looked back down at his feet until he rotated lying on his bed eyes closing as he thought of his life. Thought of his three brothers, two of whom people would presume dead.

"Does it matter?" the question arose as Michelangelo's heard the squeak of Charles shifting, his head hanging down to eye Michelangelo. "Does it count now that I lost and still wont turn my head and accept defeat?" what did Michelangelo lose per-say but a bit of his sanity to a pot still stewing.

Leonardo, his brother and commanding officer, had lost the battle he had started. Lost because he saw his worst fears come alive. He had been killed by a secret he held deep in his heart.

"Michelangelo." Charles was soothing with his words as Michelangelo turned his face looking up at Charles who had leaned far too close into Michelangelo's personal space. "Are you suffering from your victory over your alpha?"

"You wouldn't understand, Charles. My brother is too prideful. For that break in his emotional mask..." Michelangelo closed his eyes again and he felt Charles snout touch his cheek making him smile. "I am fine, I need rest. This moving barrack is making me sick."

"Ah..." the feeling of Charles breath was gone as the bed above him creaked before settling down. How strange to be comforted by a wolf when they did not comfort themselves.

The rocking, left right left right, sent Michelangelo's stomach to knots as he shifted onto his side curling into a ball. Michelangelo hated moving transportation. Michelangelo started to shift awake unsure of the time of day but knew he had a full night sleep. Eyes opening to the blinding light of the inside of the cabin he was in he closed them. Closed eyes tightening as they adjusted to the light, a snore told him Charles was asleep still above him, he turned around again opening his eyes before screamed...although it would have awoken those in the cabin if a hand was not covering his face.

"What is a kid like you doing here?" it was a black robed fighter. Scars decorated his face, his left eye missing, but it was the mark seared into his neck... a mark only a Dusk made with their jewels.

He didn't think as his hand reached out touching it before he pulled it back blushing.

"Curious bug, aren't ya." the man chuckled as he removed his hand from Michelangelo's arm before sitting down on the floor looking at Michelangelo. "What's the leader's brother doing all the way out here on the front lines... and straight from boot camp judging by the lack of cloud in your eyes."

"I... beat him in a fight..." the man laughed before a few people shouted at him to shut up. "Um, who are you?" Michelangelo said sitting up.

"The, and your, commanding officer the moment you stepped foot on this transit, mate." He was human, Michelangelo took more stock of the man before him, his eyes a deep dull grey that didn't shine like they should have. He wore no flower anywhere on his person and the muscles along his body were rippling under the torn, shredded clothing.

Was this man really a Dawn and a black cloth?

"Curious curious. Ever heard that being a curious kid might get you killed?" Michelangelo shook his head even with the low chuckle leaving the man's throat. "Come on, kid, let's get ya something so you don't moan and groan like some Sinful Dusk."

Michelangelo blushed as he nodded getting up out of his bed and following through the maze of legs, bags, and arms of the sleeping men in their bunks. He looked at the mans back, a small pause as he finally saw where the mans flower was. It was woven into his hair that reached the middle of his back. The hair was yellow, or so he thought, and the broad shoulders had hidden it.

"What's your name?" Michelangelo said jogging a bit to catch up with the six foot man whose strides were twice Michelangelo's.

"Amel Ama'ge." the Amel looked back at Michelangelo. "And you're Hamato Michelangelo." blushed the young turtle nodded looking at the ground before the man laughed, so loud and it was a shock to even hear something so free spirited. "Kid, you got a lot to learn and fear out here without those old goons blamin' every small thing we think or do as a sin!"

Michelangelo looked back up a bit surprised, "What?"

"Here in this area, with only a few men by your side all fighting to survive..." Michelangelo froze as the man before him turned striking some type of horrific pose. One hand resting on his face, two of Amel's fingers on his lips slightly inside his mouth. His eyes low and hooded looking at him, but it was the mans thrusting of the hips in the air that disturbed Michelangelo the most.

What was this man doing!

"We are free people here." Amel let go of the form before smiling. "We think as what we are, fight to protect our comrades. Our only sin is the will to survive and the murder in cold blood of the things that have possessed those we have come to love as Dusks."

"We can't 'love' dusks, Amel, they are sinful-." Michelangelo was interrupted.

"Creatures, things, disgusting pathetic excuses of what will kill us." Amel grunted in disgust, "Claim your pure soul. Sorry to disappoint, but I don't believe in that shit." Amel turned walking again. "I believe we choose our path. We become what we want. We lift our heads or bow them to whatever will we want. Dawns are sad creatures bound by ropes. So tight around your wrist that a yank of that rope and up in the air above our heads do they go. Our eyes covered by cloth... Our legs spread so we're screwed standing up with the knowledge that those Elders who never saw a day of war..." He cut off mumbling in a bit of fury.

"Um..." Michelangelo was blushing at the analogy of what Amel thought of Dawn's laws. To have them put in such a crude and Dusk point of view... was new and very disturbing for him. "Could we not... talk... like that?"

Amel turned pausing again in the middle of the path, "Oh... sorry..." He rubbed his head sheepishly. "I've been in combat and away from home too long I no longer know if I'm a Dawn or a Dusk or if I'm just some dead flesh neither side wants."

"You're a Dawn!" Michelangelo said hands up to his chest as if he was cheering. "Why else would your flower still be alive."

The look that crossed Amel's face was something that made Michelangelo lower his hands and look away, "You're cute when you get fired up, you know that, Hamato?" Michelangelo blushed even harder as he turned away clenching the fabric of his pants in his hands. Not something he expected again and it was more off setting to his balance to hear that towards him.

They began walking in silence, something Michelangelo was use to and enjoyed, before a door appeared in front of Amel and the young silent turtle. He watched Amel open it before a gust of wind nearly swept him up and sent him flying back down the hall. It would have, Michelangelo looked up feeling his body being pushed against Amel's body, if he was not secured to something heavier than he was. He did take note that Amel was rather large and muscular. Faint deep scars he could feel under the fabric.

"Look at the view." Amel said helping Michelangelo stay on his feet as his eyes were barely open looking around. The moments paused as Michelangelo opened his eyes wide to the point he nearly rushed out of Amel's arms to the edge just to see the scenery before him.

The mountains stood high, the tips covered in snow, the ground littered with old ruins that showed how powerful the people had once been. He could see flowers shimmering below him telling him a story of who had once lived in such a beautiful land. There was smoke in a few places but he paid no heed to his as Michelangelo looking to the left seeing the rich rolling hills of what he assumed to be wheat or some other type of yellow cat tail like crops. The splitting grin as he turned his head right his mouth dropped seeing a cathedral littered with cracks only a few miles away. The dome was slightly caved in, the pillars black with green vines crawling up and over them the flowers all the same white color illuminating the coming bright sun.

It was a memorial scene that captivated his eyes until he saw it. There in the small glistening sunset something shining. It traveled through the air pushing past the smoke, the dew that fell from the heavens, and the clouds. It cut through, like flesh, the surroundings as Amel snickered pulling Michelangelo closer to his side, "It seems we've been spotted." Michelangelo turned his head seeing Amel raise his hand before cupping it in a fist. His dull grey eyes shining black as his ponytail rose into the air the flower also shone a midnight black.

Michelangelo's eyes stayed on Amel even as the smile... the smile... dear god was that what he looked like when he was smiling during a fight? So lost in the thoughts of killing his opponent? Was this what Leonardo wanted to see on his face? A mindless fighter only living for the thrill of being on the front lines ready to DIE for this war that claimed two of his family members?

The explosion sent him to his knees, Amel's arm gone as it took on another seal. Michelangelo tried to grip the smooth floor as he felt the wind picking him up slightly. Dragging him to the edge of the deck to take him over into the grasp of a free falling death. His eyes grew wide as his feet soon dangled off; Amel just laughed as another bullet hit something in front of them.

Michelangelo felt the wind again rip at his nonexistent grip on the ground pulling him further off the ship. Tears started blooming in his eyes while trying to think of any incantations to speak but the weight growing in his chest, the senseless feeling that came with the touch no flower... he had left his flower back at his bunk. Stupid! STUPID!

"Leonardo..." he whispered as he felt his hands finally being forced into the air the wind started pulling him back and he hovered in the space. Amel's eyes turned, slowly growing wide, as he realized his mistake. His mouth opened as he screamed Michelangelo's last name.

'What a wonderful way to die.' something in Michelangelo's head said. 'But you don't need to die, just say it... say it... You know what needs to be said, dear brother, and it will be done...'


	6. Chapter Five

Michelangelo looked at his arm slung across his chest as he walked, eyes then turning heavily onto the ground. With each stumbling step he took allowing his body to sway with the heat in his flesh that caused the blurring in Michelangelo's vision turning him into something like an undead. Even though, for some reason he didn't know, he had been asserted as second in command of this group because the previous had vanished during the middle of the last major battle a week ago before his enlistment in this group. Now, Michelangelo let his eyes shift up from his downward position to be looking at the man leading them all to their next location, he was forced to deal with this 'man' day after day, even at night where he would shiver with fear over never 'knowing'.

This man... Amel...scared him more than even the thought of being killed in battle did. Amel had the fear of his soldiers and yet Amel fought with tunnel vision that made nothing around him even matter. Only a few days ago had been their first battle with this leader. It was one Michelangelo would remember. To see the men believing they could win yet after this thought seeing their leader 'attack' one of their own in his blind fit of 'passion' for the fighting.

It was never pleasant and the men had ran cowering away from such a ferocious man.

"Amel!" Michelangelo shouted out pushing his weary legs faster to be walking next to the sly smirking dolt of a leader. "We need to rest now, it's past nightfall and none of us are use to this type of punishment!" He looked back at the men, most smiling happily that he at least seemed to care about other colors, and then back to Amel.

"There isn't-." Amel froze as he spotted a few men actually fall down. "Fine, we'll camp here for the night. I don't like it though." He hissed this last part out for them to hear.

"Then go ahead. I know where the envoys are staying." the look that shifted, so furious, from Michelangelo's narrowed eyes turned up at Amel before the man nodded stiffly walking away strangely without a fight.

The group stood silently watching before Amel was far out of hearing range. When gone out of sight as well as hearing they too fell to the ground. Michelangelo turned looking at them seeing some nearly already out cold before softly smiling.

A strong arm wrapped around the turtles waist and lifted Michelangelo up into the furred chest of Michelangelo's best friends chest, "You are strong, Michelangelo, but even you must rest too." Charles had seemed far more attached to Michelangelo these last few days. Almost to the point as if stitched into Michelangelo's shoulder. It was a comfort because Charles was the very reason the young black clothing turtle was still alive now after these few days.

"Just let me sit down... I still have to make sure..." Michelangelo felt how weak his legs were along with feeling the groups eyes turned worriedly at him. "Just get the tents set up, Charles, and make a short inventory... please..."

"Of course!" Charles, a vibrant wolf, made Michelangelo giggle as he was leaned against one of the ever growing trees in this scattered. His eyes closed as sleep dragged through his body but thoughts of punishment for disrespecting his commanding color was tossed like a salad through the air in his mind, the contents spilling making him twitch uncomfortably.

Michelangelo had been shocked when a red envoy for the blacks that traveled with him that he knew from his time training. He was a close friend with Charles so when the man walked in cursing out Amel it was a system shock to Michelangelo.

The man had said that it was far to late to retreat... to save the group they were in... Michelangelo had sat up as the ews sat down holding his hands in the air before down on his knees. They talked for a while before Michelangelo learned how so many of them had already died when it was only a small scuffle. Michelangelo felt sad to not even realize it since he was still tending his own wounds.

Amel sacrificed his men. He killed them in cold blood just to get a thrill out of the fight, Charle's friend said. He had never expected that such a man was still a Dawn. Amel's actions, his words, and the way he treated some of the men like they were nothing but... things...

Michelangelo didn't see those things until he became second in command... he had his suspicions as to what happened to predecessor. Just like he knew the inkling of burning flesh always wafting to his nose when he watched Amel beginning to fight when Amel took another dusk to its grave.

Just like on the transportation ship... Just like when he was beginning to fall down... That memory still so vivid. He had been falling to his death down into the forest below. He had only seconds to call out Amel's name and seeing the other looking shocked. His face didn't last long in Michelangelo's view. When things turned blue and Michelangelo's eyes were facing the sky was when he felt the arms around his waist. Fingers tightening in the fabric of his pants. Amel's words yelling out something so incomprehensible.

All Michelangelo saw was eyes tinted a black purple. The smile, close to borderline insanity and love, meeting his own. Then the words that rang out of the person he knew so well, "I haven't given you permission to die, yet, brother. Wait a little longer before throwing yourself off another train."

He opened his eyes breathing labored as a few greens were next to him holding his shoulders and arms so he couldn't slump and fall into the mud.

"Sorry," Michelangelo had grown to understand that though he was a black wearer he was somehow … kinder... when he didn't have to worry about pretenses. The group, his soldiers and now friends, had taken that kindness to heart. The bond that grew because he stood up for them against that tyrant on many different occasions had only boosted their affection for him.

"It's fine." A human green said smiling as he let Michelangelo's head rest on his shoulder, "Your tent is last like always... we just thought you didn't want to get muddy before going to bed..."

A few others nodded as one stated behind him, "And you'd do the same for us... well... you already have in some ways..."

Were these the same people on the transportation who looked at him with disgust? Who thought of him as some mindless pathetic black only wanting to kill... well if they fought with him to a point they would agree with it.

The progress was slow work but the group worked well together, Amel was right about how tight knitted battle would make them, and he smiled as he forced himself up, much to the Green's dislike, and walked over to help with one of the tents. This was his family until he went home. Michelangelo would do anything to protect them. Even if he was low in strength it could still be harvested up from somewhere inside him to help.

"You really should rest." Charles had come over standing behind the battle exhausted turtle who still had a hard time standing up straight. "The inventory is done and the tents are up, I've told them all the time of their shifts and the basics. Come, let us head to bed together." If Michelangelo wasn't sluggish in his head he would have blushed and asked what Charles meant by that. The wolfan grinned like a fiend, they always do, as he walked Michelangelo to the tent in the middle of the group. Michelangelo had the faint feeling that his friend would be sleeping in his tent by his side. Maybe, if nothing did interrupt and destroy that feeling.

Only second in command slept in the tent with their commander. It was the law of things because if the commander needed to issue orders at night he didn't want to hunt for someone, he wanted to go back to bed.

Michelangelo hated the ranking system at times. Blacks were the leaders, they were the ones who dictated all others then the elders you never saw in the great city. Reds came next in the ranking line due to their usual brute strength and loyalty. A black and red always fit together in fights because of their strong dictation towards something in common. To that point Michelangelo's and Charles's relationship prior to their graduation ceremony was a help to their bonding agent.

Greens were the third class, they were usually the stealth class, Michelangelo always believed it was because they blended in so well with their environment. Even a friend in his class was a green, he knew the girl but she was always so illusive. It stunned him and he spent days trying to find out how to do that... what a mistake because he had gotten in trouble.

Then the last of the fighting class were the blues. They mainly consisted of the spell casters. Always so strong in their way with no fist violence from such a distance of casting that they made the blacks look like trash. They could move and flow like the water. It was beautiful to see, but it was also rare for a black to be a plain spell caster like Michelangelo was... so in a way he had adopted the 'violent beauty' on the battlefield from his ranged and close battles.

Michelangelo smiled as his shell hit the cot and a sigh of love came from his lips. Slowly Michelangelo felt his shirt being unbuttoned and slipped down showing his chest, he blushed feeling slightly exposed but he couldn't seem to say 'stop' to his friend doing such a thing.

His pants were unbuttoned from that one side before the small string was attached to his waist allowing it to pulled down a bit. Another stronger feverish blush flowed over to cover his beak as he turned his head looking at Charles over him, stripping him.

Wolfan had no decency... but Michelangelo didn't complain. Charles had already saw him naked once, even touched him naked... that made a slight moan come to his mouth as Charles froze looking up at his friend as if he had hurt him.

"Sorry, stretching legs... good..." the chuckle that was met made him turn his head as small fleeting images of his brother doing what his friend was doing now was making his body respond instantly to the soft touches of furred fingers.

He somehow could feel Leonardo lifting up his shoulders, to feel the three scaly fingers touch trailing down pulling the fabric away from Michelangelo's chest. The soft sound of his shirt hitting the floor made his heart jump as Leonardo's image smirked, those blue eyes narrowing as they shifted to Michelangelo's lap trailing down pulling the smaller turtles pants down. Hungry eyes trailed over the small slit acrossed the young turtles bone like shell before another hand joined trailing to the side. His hips were lifted using the material of his pants then yanked down to his knees.

The cool air chilled Michelangelo's skin causing him to shiver involuntarily while the hands, the image of Leonardo, continued to strip him of his shin guards and cloth like boots. He gave a soft sigh as he felt a blanket being drooped over his small frame before a tongue licked his head and he almost had a thought to say 'Ewww, brother' but it was restrained.

He then remembered who was doing this and it wasn't the one whom he lived with.

Morning had brought a cold damp of heat that soaked into him like the water from the night. His eyes opened weakly before he turned onto his right side using his elbow to push himself up. His face felt hot as he tried to remember what he had saw last night in the other world.

Strange how each night his counterpart was doing something sinful. Always returning back here to his home, to the battlefield, before they could go far into … that. His eyes lifted up as a water skin sack full of spring water and herbs met his lips, his head tilted back so he could drink. Slowly he looked into Charles' concerned face as he pulled the waterskin away and replaced the cork in so that the smell of the herb scented water and the contents of the water itself wouldn't spill as he dropped it to the floor..

"You must rest, as must we all." Michelangelo was confused as he sat up more, the blanket falling revealing his body to his friend, he didn't feel a bit to seem to even care as he stood up looking around so he could change. "Michelangelo, did you-."

"What happened last night?" Michelangelo grinned finding his pants and began slipping them on. He now loved the feel of the material caressing his body. It had become such a comfort, his outfit, that the thought of it ever ruined hurt him like a blade of his brothers slicing his skin.

Charles didn't say anything as Michelangelo put on his shoes and shin guards. The orange eyes turned up to give a curious look before Charles turned around walking out of the room before Amel entered.

"My my..." Amel smiled standing with his hands at his side, "You have seemed to capture this groups heart... how disgusting for a black to be so sympathetic and comforting to a group that'll die." Michelangelo set his shirt off to the side as he stood up from the cot he sat on for walking to Amel, barely reaching the middle of Amel's chest, before he looked into Amel's face.

"Is that wrong to put my comrades first before myself?" here he felt the usual thing Amel did in the morning. The index finger touching his neck before trailing down. The finger slowly cut across his throat then taking a turn down the middle of his plastron. A shiver left Michelangelo's body as Amel leaned his smile twisted into a grin that only Dusk's ever wore when they were about to claim one of the Dawns for the first time. For their first in bed and in the 'hell' of their own living ways on the sinful side. His lips were mere centimeters from Michelangelo's.

Death's kiss was what the Dawn's called it because the sins you would never feel without permission would arise. Overwhelm your body making you kiss back, your hands would travel over the Dusk before you. He had seen a few men fall to it and it had always brought tears to his face since they had been good and close friends to him.

"I think you are forgetting something, Hamato Michelangelo." Michelangelo stepped back feeling the pressure on his chest, Amel's energy, coursing to his heart. He winced as another step was forced from him. "You're MY second in command like your predecessor before you." Michelangelo closed his eyes as the back of his knees hit the cot sending him flailing onto it. Amel's finger didn't follow but the man straddled Michelangelo's body pinning him down as he leaned over the turtle's chest whispering again, "You belong to me until I or you die."

This was how Amel started his days, Michelangelo looked at Amel's eyes before he felt the human hands trailing over his body. Was this what his predecessor suffered through every morning? Was this why some men from the prior group of Amel's would come into Michelangelo's tent before they set off always looking like something was wrong, something had violated them?

'Of course.' that inner voice spat with disgust as Michelangelo held back a gasp as two hands wrapped around his throat showing Amel had finished 'playing'. The words when Michelangelo had been brought into this tent the first time still carried some sort of 'sacred hold' in his head.

** FlashBack **

'You are here to be promoted to my second in command,' so snide was it said, 'your body is mine, the words out of your mouth are mine, and how you die is my choosing.' Amel had stood up from his cot dragging Michelangelo to the bed stripping him of every article of clothing in seconds, though nothing happened other than an 'evaluation', with his own magic causing Michelangelo to realize that Amel had complete dominance and fear over the second black, Michelangelo.

Michelangelo cried after Amel had left because he had no understanding if this was true regulations. His brother had never let him stay long enough to learn what to do when you were the second in command. He remembered sitting away from the group his arms tightly wrapped around his body, his legs locked together trying to forget how Amel's hand felt putting pressure 'there'...

'When I take what is sacred from you it will be my own choosing. Until then I hope you like teasing.' He hated Amel, hated this battle, and at first he hated this group for never coming in to save him. Charles had been the worst to deal with for a few weeks. His friend, every day after the sinful treatment, would try to interact like normal with Michelangelo. A very Wolfan way: Touching, rubbing, playful wolf style.

The words Michelangelo used, along with the actions,over the time period of days must have hurt his friend. For that month alone Michelangelo cast aside everyone because he wasn't sure if they even cared about a black cloth in second in command being used as a Dusk would use their victims.

Michelangelo learned that he was wrong. The company had been worried. The long walk between the camp before the last two had assured Michelangelo of it. They might not have known what was happening and he was so thankful for it. The day that he was took a side on one of the walks to 'scout' ahead was one he thankfully felt content with.

The look, the tone, Charles had given Michelangelo at the time was furious but sympathetic. He had not said anything after the talk before just standing there staring at Michelangelo until he began to cry. Charles had wrapped the small fragile looking turtle in a warm embrace, telling him that he along with the others would be there to support him, but only second later Charles had pulled back eyes wide before he began sniffing Michelangelo's scent. Charles' eyes had become as red as blood as his fangs grew larger.

Michelangelo watched as realization dawned on Charles' face. He could see the fury welling up as he again was pulled into a hug where Charles rubbed his head against Michelangelo's head and neck, it was scenting Michelangelo knew that much from how many years he had known Charles and his family.

It was a mark for all other animal based fighters to know that he was owned, but Amel was human and wouldn't be able to pick up on it. Though the sentiment was strong and it brought hope and happiness Michelangelo had not felt since his time always by Leonardo's side. No matter how small.

** End Flashback **

Michelangelo's eyes snapped open as the memory faded and he looked up into Amel's face as his lips covered Mikey's own. Amel didn't force himself into Michelangelo's mouth, like usual, before he pulled away grinning then standing up only beginning to demand what his status allowed him to, "Get dressed and make sure the men are ready."

The seconds only dragged as Michelangelo threw on his shirt not even bothering to button it up. He wanted away but he knew he'd never get there fast enough.

'Bound by honor the blacks follow like whipped dogs,' Michelangelo spat in his head before finding Charles first, the ruby eyes looked down his body the growling of fury and possessiveness increasing every morning, every time Amel touched Michelangelo's body in any such way.

Charles, his dear friend Charles...

"I'm fine, he didn't do anything." Michelangelo relaxed as Charles nodded standing closer to Michelangelo a small whine leaving his wolfan chest. "I need you to get the men ready, tell the other reds to start packing up the tents and the blues to get everything rounded up. He'll want to move shortly and I doubt we want to hear him throw a tantrum."

Charles nodded his head, bending his snout down rubbing his nose against Mikey's check before leaving to do as he was told. Michelangelo smiled at his friends antics before he walked over to talk to a few men in charge of supplies and see how much was consumed during the rest last night and this morning. He hoped they had enough to make it to the Envoys.

`````  
The second trip had no rest in it, Amel did not budge this time, and they walked for nearly two and a half weeks before coming finally to an opening in the forest like area to which had twisted into an open empty battle scarred plain, most of the men were wide eyed their faces looking around with worry. In the middle of the afternoon none of them could blend in easy with their backgrounds. None of them could freely move without having another person check their left or right.

"Oh... I can smell it in the air!" Amel said grabbing Michelangelo by the arm and pushing him against the taller man's body. "There's a fight up ahead! Ohhh... and it smells like fun!" The sick twist to his words made the contents in Michelangelo's stomach turn, but he had refused to eat because unlike Amel he didn't want the group to starve.

The man ate twice as much then he should have. He would drink more than three mens fill of water. Michelangelo felt anger towards his commanding officer. Amel would often try to make Michelangelo do the same as Amel, though Michelangelo was easily on a few occasions to fool him into letting the turtle not into such a rude horrible way of hurting the company of his 'friends'.

He had no care that he was looking thinner than before. That Michelangelo's body showed the abuse that Amel and he himself were forcing upon it.

Amel grinned raising his hand making the group stop, "I want Blues to head north about two miles towards that rock formation. Greens you are to scout ahead planting weapons and traps. Reds, go wild."

Go wild... of all the things to say to insult the Red pride... Michelangelo looked over spotting Charles fangs bared the red eyes on Amel and him. He could tell his friend's animal side was trying to break free. He hated how this must look to the group... they must feel disgusted by him.

'They are disgusted.' That voice returned, it bothered him. 'He's going to make a move when they leave... when Charles isn't here to save us...' it sounded like a childs voice. A weak, pathetic, and needing protection every second of every day voice.

A small gasp came from him as Amel's grip tightened as the leader whispered, "Tell them to leave before I make them."

"You... have your orders..." Michelangelo's pain filled voice was raspy before the reds, blues, and greens nodded with rage as they left.

Michelangelo could feel the lack of presence around him, feel only Amel's arm traveling down to lift his shirt up. If he was only stronger he knew he could have stopped what Amel would do next.

His orange eyes looked up, after closing for a shear moment of pain, up into Amel's face. The man was licking his lower lip as his hand continued to pull up the shift eyeing the hard plastron beneath. The smell of his breath heavy as it grew labored.

'I guess... it's actually... happening...' Mikey felt the tears of fear lace his face before his pants were pulled down the button popping off and the fabric slightly ripping. In a day or two it would mend itself like skin but it would be noticeable for the group... they would know that his body would be soiled. He would have allowed a sin upon himself to be committed. Their trust in him then would no longer be there... He would again be alone with no form of comfort from more abuse that Amel would obviously do to him.

Lowered to the dirt and rocky ground Michelangelo's legs were lifted up shivering at the feeling of Amel's tongue on his inner thigh, "Ah... you can voice out, you know that, right, kid?" Amel's tongue tailed up towards his tail making Michelangelo bite back any sound of pleasure or pain.

"I don't want to hurt you severely, Hamato, just a bit of suffering..." His legs were placed back down, wrapping around Amel's waist, before the man leaned over laying his full weight, suffocating weight, on Michelangelo's lean and thinner form. The small younger turtle stared up barely able to get a lungful of air into his lungs while Amel also gazed down with a sick twisted humours look.

The look was degrading even combining with the words made caused Michelangelo's skin to crawl, "You're a good quiet slut, you know that... I doubt you even know what the greatest of the Dawn's sins are." the man laughed sending the vibrations into Mikey's chest. "It's sex... having someone take you so roughly, violate your body and your mind. Their tongue inside your mouth..." Amel kissed Michelangelo again while his hand grabbing Michelangelo's throat. "Why don't we see how you break... If a Hamato breaks easily, I heard from books, it means the Dawns are meant to fall..."

Michelangelo quizzically looked at Amel his understanding lacking.

"Oh, they must have taken the books down when your father and mother were killed." Amel laughed, "The Hamato clan, one of the eight living family blood lines. So pure but so tainted."

The man sighed sitting up still straddling Michelangelo's legs, "Ah, now you've put me off my mood with such a depressing situation." He rolled onto his back next to Michelangelo with a pout, "And I was sooo going to make you feel good."

"How could it feel good when he won't enjoy the pleasure from it from the likes of a disgusting black as yourself?" The voice was low, fueled with fury causing Amel to tilt his head for his eyes to look up staring into the foreground as a dark blood red robed turtle came forward. A gun, nearly the size of his body, was trailing behind him. His eyes shown a deep crimson red before Michelangelo, seeing him once before, knew who this was.

Hamato Raphael. This was his older brother brother.

"I've been looking everywhere, Amel, for you scum riding ass!" the smile grew on his face as he stopped ten feet away from Michelangelo and Amel, the later turning over narrowing his eyes.

"Well well well," Amel's energy swirled through the air the pressure like chains strapping Michelangelo to the ground as his hand tried, struggling, to reach up to grab his neck almost as if something was strangulating him. His eyes never left Raphael's body though as the smile dropped replaced with rage. "I guess I was too slow this time... hm?"

"Oh, I think not... you see, the honor of my little brother isn't yours, whore." The gun was lifted up, like a feather even though it looked nearly the weight of a stone column... or twelve, before Michelangelo felt a hand on his shoulder. His eyes shifted and Donatello's smile greeted him.

"Wha-!" Amel looked between them both, "How did you get into my circle!"

Donatello lifted Michelangelo up into his arms the chuckle that left Donatello's mouth made Michelangelo's skin feel feverish as the weight of Amel's energy vanished.  
  
"Simple," Donatello said, "I know all the powers a Dusk have. And you, foolish trickster, are no exception to that."


	7. Chapter six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amel is revealing more of his true self.

Michelangelo moaned as he curled his toes his head turning so that more of the rough treatment he was getting could be felt through his fogged up mind. A few snickers to his left came forcing him to open his eyes to look up into Raphael's face as his older brother kept Michelangelo still in Raphael's lap.

Another moan left Michelangelo's beak as he fell back even more into Raphael's embrace. Donatello chuckled breathing onto the wet skin on Michelangelo's neck for a moment, "You taste very sweet, Mikey." Donatello laughed as his hand traveled down the shredded fabric to Michelangelo's crotch. His head low as he moaned. "But you don't taste perfect... not yet."

Raphael chuckled his eyes looking at Donatello who leaned in kissing Raphael. Their tongues twisted in the air with a small gap allowing Michelangelo to see the action between them. The action again awoke something in Michelangelo's chest making him moan as he leaned into his brother even more. Michelangelo wasn't sure what he was feeling as a slow mist of confusion clouding his mind along did the pleasure when Raphael leaned Michelangelo's head back looking into his baby brothers face before softly kissing Michelangelo's slightly abused lips, "Shush, it's okay..." He said smiling. "Just getting that stench off ya, okay, Mikey?"

Confusion grew as Donatello stood up looking at both Raphael and Michelangelo, "Raph, give him a massage, he's tense!" The joking matter was still in his voice as Raphael moved Michelangelo down to be laid down on the nest of beds that they both had stolen from the dead and from the packs of those they had just 'turned'. The cold red eyes traveled over Michelangelo's body as the hands shifted rubbing at Michelangelo's neck spreading down the skin.

He never knew Raphael could do this before? Or was this learned while in the Dusks?

"I shall be back, don't do anything without me, please, Raphael." Donatello snickered as he left through a portal, a small boy smiling as a few feathers fell from his arm before he closed his eyes and went unmoving like a statue.

Is this how the Dusks moved? Those things much like the angles of his Dawns? He moaned arching his back as Raphael shifted grinding slightly into him. He hated this feeling because he couldn't control it but the more Raphael moved over him, the slight shifts against area's of his body he never knew in this world, on himself, were sensitive like this and it was driving him crazy.

"You really liking this, aren't ya, baby bro." Raphael leaned in trailing his tongue up Michelangelo's cheek and paused below Michelangelo's left eye. "It's okay, Donnie isn't going to let us do 'that' just yet..." Raphael chuckled as he moved lifting the right leg of his brother into his lap, "He's still waiting for 'him' to crack..."

Michelangelo felt his legs stumble as he moved. His face was flushed, almost as if with a fever, but he couldn't help but look up at the bright full moon laid against a black sky. The moon looked nearly like a smiling beast laughing at his weak and unwilling self. He couldn't even remember how he had gotten to the point he was from the moment he passed out beneath Raphael and … God, he shivered as his hands reached up rubbing and clawing at his skin trying to make the feeling of Raphael's tongue go away.

The growing tears stung his eyes as he began to walk through the brush. The cat tails tickled his nearly bare legs, the fabric of his clothing mending slowly but it wouldn't be fixed before he was found by ally or fiend.

Michelangelo's eyes were swollen from tears before he fell flat on his chest, heaving like the five mile sprint he had just done only hours before. Fighting the sleep that was claiming him he hear low growls from around him, his eyes lifted up a bit as he tried to stand, but a pawed hand gripped his neck threateningly.

"Move and I'll rip you apart, Dusk." Michelangelo didn't move as he chuckled, this was a Wolfan... they thought he was a Dusk... He laughed before he started coughing. "Get the others, we'll see what the leader wants to do with it." the hand tightened as Michelangelo stilled his eyes closing just as sleep claimed his body.

Small whispers, along with touches, met his skin pulling the sleep like a web from his mind. Michelangelo's eyes opened as if under heavy water. His vision swam like heat rising from the lava flow. He could barely see or hear anything, but his skin was on fire as another stroke down his arms made it tingle and itch. The area over sensitive.

"This isn't right!" a muffled voice from outside bellowed. "He's sick! He shouldn't be alone... not with that man!" the voice's rough tone made a small bell go off in his mind but he pushed it out as the ringing hurt his head.

The finger moved to his right leg going from the outer thigh to the inner, the hand slipping between gripping the flesh. He moaned pulling his head back hands gripping the sheet he was on, but the moan was cut off as heavy cloth covered his mouth.

"No no no, my second in command, you don't get the choice to be vocal now." Another yell was heard outside as other voices joined in, but they seemed intent of stopping the one throwing such a fit.

'Move your hand.' the voice in his head returned as the hand just sat in between his thighs in a teasing manner. 'Let me feel good... let me fall back into that heat again.' The voice grew more obnoxious as flashes of two green skinned turtles fell upon his closed lids.

One smiled only touching, trailing its hands, if the other said so. Then it would join in claiming his mouth in a deep breath stealing lip lock that caused his body to panic for how long it would last.

He shivered as his eyes drew open to see the man, it was a human male with his hair braided up falling down his shoulder. His black flower withering away as if dead no longer clinging to life. Slowly he looked up into the black eyes twisted by greed and malice. The smile turned up farther, "I guess it's a good thing only you know... isn't it, Michelangelo... I've fooled everyone so far... taken so many of your comrades..."

He gripped the sheets not in pleasure but in pain as the hand, the fingernails turning into claws, dug into his skin ripping at the flesh. He opened his eyes wider as his legs were pulled apart.

Michelangelo knew how a Dawn turned into a Dusk and here he saw a man in his final stages. The skin, so tan, paled slightly as Amel stripped of his clothing. His eyes illuminating such emotions, so negative and destructive, but the smile opened into a grin showing his teeth. The rows of sharp teeth four prominent fangs protruding from the rest.

He swaggered back over, stipped of his garments, before climbing on top of Michelangelo. Moving his fingers softly against the skin where his hand started trailing the blood from the wound up to Michelangelo's face, "I do have to thank you though... you see, I can't be like this because you smell like a Dusk..." He leaned in sniffing Mikey's neck, "BUT i still smell no sin on you!"

"My... brothers... didn't touch me... like that..." Michelangelo wheezed through his mouth arms being pulled up along with his body so his head hung off the cot and his hands were places so they too fell off the bed, the pain from the joints pulling making Michelangelo close his eyes. Amel snickered as he put pressure on the arms before he moved spreading Michelangelo's legs farther apart.

"Oh... wonder why? A Dusk loves to be a Dawns first sexual playmate." Amel laughed as he trailed a finger over the puckered entrance, "Love to take a Dawn's first, to sin them... to make their mind fall so hard into self loathing..." Amel put a small amount of pressure on the entrance before pulling back, "Once a Dawn has sinned, Michelangelo, they never are treated right! They are sent to the slaughter!" It was a low hiss but the fury was there as if screamed from the top of Amel's lungs.

A brutal slap met Michelangelo's face, "No one cares about them anymore!" Michelangelo struggled to lift his head to see the fuzzy face of Amel before the human bent down his hands trailing over Michelangelo's arms twining with his fingers before resting his forehead over Michelangelo's throat. "Why..."

"Why... what?" Michelangelo relaxed not caring he could barely breath. "Why... what?"

A hum was emitted from Amel's chest as he continued to lie still, nearly acting as if he was a sleep. Michelangelo gave a sigh as if Amel was just a child and he was the adult. It was weird, during his time with Amel he had never seen the man act like he was now. Never broken like a dog, never so lost, and he had the perfect chance to sin Michelangelo. A smile cracked on his face as Amel said so softly that even to him it was almost unsaid, "A Hamato is one so pure, but so tainted. Just perfect in every way."

It didn't make a lick of sense, at least not at this time for the youngest Hamato bare before the human sinner who said it.


	8. Chapter seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To be free is one thing, but to be free yet to realize that not everything is a save world is another thing. Michelangelo is slowly learning things out on his own. Though is he learning something else?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't condone violence. Got my first Kudo :) I'm so happy. I hope you all enjoy this.

The sounds outside had dwindled to murmurs. Michelangelo didn't mind it because it only meant that he would be alone when Amel actually lost whatever mental battle he was in. Michelangelo shifted his head up, the pain in his neck was becoming problematic, and his eyes landed on the deep red patch on his shoulder just barely within visible range where Amel would come back to suck or bite. He frowned as Amel looked up then to see his orange eyes staring back into slightly dull humorless eyes that were Amel's changing Dusk color.

A perverted smile fell on Amel's lips as he lifted his hand up pushing Michelangelo's head back down as he lifted each tight sore muscled arms into the air before he licked down the curves from shoulder to palm sucking at the wrist then began smiling at Michelangelo once more, "My head is killing me..." he leaned back down placing Michelangelo's hands on the plastron to use as a pillow. "I never understood why the horns grew last, did they tell you?"

Mikey looked back at the cloth of the tent, he could see the swirling magic leaking off Amel feeding the barrier, "It's because sanity, digression between right and wrong... are then blurred."

"What does that mean?" Amel shifted grinding slightly but he only was stretching in his mind.

"It means what you would have valued... is nothing but dirt. You're only going by animal instinct." Amel laughed softly as he closed his eyes humming. "But you already know what happens after the horns grow, don't you."

"Yes," Amel stated with a bit of grief, "I wont be able to play with you or any other second in command." This time it was Michelangelo who laughed, the laugh started small before it wracked his body making Amel sit up looking down at the turtle.

"Play... is that what you call the torture you are putting me through? The sins you placed on me so far and the sins you'll do to me shortly?" Amel watched as the pupils of Michelangelo's eyes shifted to a deep dark orange. "How you lie on top of me even now?" Amel continued to look on as his face tilted, "Is what you did to us... my predecessors and me... was that even PART of being in command?"

"Oh," Amel finally understood what Michelangelo was talking about, "You mean me doing 'that' every morning... no, command doesn't require that, I just do it because it's fun."

"FUN!" Michelangelo yelled his shell being used to help him up by rocking forward as he looked into Amel's face his hands dangling weakly at his side, his eyes blurring in and out of focus and blood oozed back into the membrane of his head. "Threatening to do … to..." he couldn't see as he fell into Amel's chest heaving as his head pounded.

"I think you're pushing yourself, second in command." Amel reached down lifting one leg of Michelangelo's so that the young turtle was scooted up onto Amel's lap. "I guess I've dragged this out too long, now haven't I..." The labored breathing turned into panic breaths as he felt how hard Amel was pressing against the circle of muscle. Michelangelo felt tears falling faster as he tried to struggle but his limbs were numb.

"I'll be gentle only for you." Amel kissed Michelangelo's head as he lifted the smaller frame up, the turtle closed his eyes trying to mentally prepare for what he knew would happen.

The feeling of Amel's hands moving and pulling his legs wider, the muscles clenched into that position by Michelangelo's own fear and dread over what is to come next. His eyes were dancing with colors ranging from white to red to blue and back again to green and purple before yellow. He could feel the weight of something curved and wet against his inner thigh that caused Michelangelo's breathing to stop and come in panicked slow gaspes.

He was going to be raped and he couldn't stop it. He waited a few minutes in his mind but it had been longer as he felt over and over the sick sleek feeling of that wet against his entrance wanting in but almost waiting. No, Amel was 'preparing'. Wetting Michelangelo down so it would be 'easier' to push in. So this was being 'gentle'? The fear, the pain, the nauseating sick feeling, the spiral down into the desire to bite one's own tongue off? That was being gentle?

Michelangelo didn't want to see forceful then. Then slowly it changed. The feeling was pulled back and...Soft... Michelangelo's mind purred out the words even as something warm splattered his arms and face. His eyes were taped shut by something as a few hands grabbed his body, carrying him almost... what is this?

Pain flared in his body as something, clawed hands, pinned him to the ground straddling his naked body. He knew he was crying again as the pressure on his wrist grew to the point he wasn't sure if his wrist were broken or ripped off. Something spoke, low in a thrashing tone, that sent waves of pure fear through his body.

The tears wouldn't stop now as that warm liquid dripped down onto his face and neck, his mind screaming that he wanted away... this was not what he had expected... what was this?

A loud scream met his ears making him turn his head in the direction he believed it to be from. His mind wondering if the camp was being attacked.

Pulled back from what he was hearing he felt his legs being pushed apart wide enough that the joints hurt. He bent his legs easing the pressure just a bit, though a hand touched his knee almost as if to comfort him. He relaxed wondering if this was how Amel said he'd be 'gentle also, a sick sort of 'Here, I'm still 'human', so I'll give you physical touching comfort, take all you can it's the last you'll ever get'.

A clawed hand removed itself from his left wrist before tilting his head back soft words whispering into his ear, 'You'll be fine'. Another hand moved feeling almost Michelangelo's thighs as if searching for something to be wrong... or to tease... what was going on?

He froze his head tilting back as the hand touched the sensitive muscle. He felt the tears renew again as he breathed heavily. This … would be it... wouldn't it?

"He's fine," the cold calculating anger rose in that voice, "Take him to the medical tent, I want him fully checked on. You, you're Michelangelo's friend... you sent for us, didn't you?"

"Yes." the low unconfined growl was in that one word before Michelangelo felt his body being lifted up.

As if never meaning to be heard the words that came to greet his ears gave him confidence but plunged his soul into a black sea as Leonardo said, "Kill that bastard and bring all those who might be infected to the secondary tent for testing! I want this damn UNIT thrown into quarantine!"

"I'm here." the tongue was a bit rough on Michelangelo's hand but it still brought a smile to his face seeing Charles looking at him like a lost scared puppy. Who knew his friend would risk his life in such a manner as to try a Mirror spell, one even Michelangelo had a hard time with, and then bring his brother with other blacks here … "Are you hungry?" Charles nuzzled Michelangelo's palm making Michelangelo laughed.

"I'm fine... I swear, your clinging to me is making me feel spoiled." The turtle smiled as Charles leaned forward licking, again, at Michelangelo's neck. "Charles..." the small turtle warned.

"Can I help that I'm still worried?" the Wolfan just smiled as he stood up walking to the door before leaving. "I have to return... I'll be back later." Michelangelo watched the door close before vanishing.

How he wished to go out into the forest and away from this pocket dimension created for containment. He looked to the other men in here, most blues and a few greens, before he sighed, "And again I'm locked with the boredom squad!" he sarcastically said before a few of them chuckled in agreement.

Time. Something you take for granted when you never had to forgive it and let it take you on a ride through hell. It was something that always came to him, like a knife through the jugular vein, and it wasn't as merciful as fate who left you many paths to walk. Here, now, time had taken Michelangelo on a small trip to a deeper part of his mind where he forced his brain never to go on a normal day. Here he laid in bed waiting, unlike many of the men, to leave. Yet Leonardo had refused to let Michelangelo free and even Charles was soon refused into the pocket dimension a few days later after they learned of Amel's escape.

Time, what a miserable thing, had came with him in the deep lonely dull glow of the room. The swirling flowers losing their petals before the light would go out showing how it was night out in the world of actual living.

"I WANT TO GO OUT!" Michelangelo screamed throwing another fit as he had banged on the wall of the now smaller room to just fit just him. "I'M SICK OF BEING IN HERE, BROTHER!" he knew no one could hear him but the outburst was good to control what he was still feeling over this whole situation.

To nearly being... 'raped'... having his brothers torture him in the most horrifying ways that still made his skin crawl and his heart ache to be near them...to feel that love they still seemed to have for him even if it was twisted now.

No, he refused to turn... refused everything because he wanted to be home with Leonardo... wanted his brother to understand that no matter what he was really part of this family. Screwed up as it was.

His eyes narrowed again as he paused, his nails digging into his hand before he screamed. Long, loud, and emotionally filled that when it was over tears had spilled down his cheeks, his throat ahcing, and Michelangelo's body no longer willing to hold him up. He fell to the ground curling up as he thought, 'Does Leonardo blame me for this?'. It wouldn't have been the first time Leo pointed an accusing finger at his little brother over things.

No, it was his fault Donatello left Leonardo. Leonardo would smile at Donatello, hug him, talk to him, and even play with his younger brother. When Raphael left Leonardo was enraged accusing Michelangelo to have somehow force him to leave... but Leonardo had been so cold when Donatello left... always coming home later... always staring out at something like something indeed was wrong.

Michelangelo coughed as he pounded his skull, "NO! NO! NO NO NOO!" He screamed again thrashing at the ground or anything he could touch, including his own body. He didn't want these memories to resurface in any way, manner, or form. He didn't want to remember Leonardo coming home a few times swaying as blood dripped down his arms. His eyes narrowing on the two crying cuddling brothers trying not to show how much Leonardo scared them.

Michelangelo remembered being picked up... remembered Leonardo's cold frosty tone as he was thrown like a rag doll into his room. Nor Raphael's muffled screams as Leonardo would become violent...would hurt...

"Stop..." Michelangelo begged the tears flowing as his body lost the will to fight the flooding memories. "I... I don't want these..."

The looks Raphael had gotten at times coming to school with him, the blood that still bleed form some of his wounds... Raphael was always teased for being Duskish. Michelangelo remembered... One time a person, only weeks before Raphael left, had actually scared Michelangelo's older brother when he leaned into his golden eyed brothers space whispering something the youngest knew naught.

Raphael avoided him for days... up until the last few days he vanished. Now, as he stared as if death was he himself, he watched as Leonardo's feet came walking through the portal and his brother knelt down lifting his small frame up allowing Michelangelo to see the small smile on Leonardo's face as Michelangelo was set on the bed, "Mikey, Mikey, Mikey."

The words were like rocks hitting his stomach. Each one sending off warnings that made his eyes close, "You need to shut up and stop causing such commotions, brother."

Michelangelo's lower lip quivered slightly as Leonardo leaned in his head close to Michelangelo's, "I have had to replace five people since you started throwing a fit like a child, wake up and act like an adult!" Michelangelo pulled back yet tears streaking down again with fear as Leonardo had leaned in growling his blue eyes shifting from blue to a midnight color, "Now, do you want me to make you be silent or will you do it?"

"I... I... w-will.." Michelangelo stammered out his body shaking violently on the bed.  
The smile softened as his brother nodded getting up and shaking his hands, "You don't have much longer to stay in here, Michelangelo, so i expect no more problems."

Leonardo's left his back facing the one on the bed, another thing Michelangelo hated... but he loved ... He smiled as he remembered one night after Raphael had left and he had been allowed to go home. He had sat on his bed crying with fear thinking Leonardo would be gone also. His brother had come into the room, sat down next to him, and he had been pulled into a hug where for the first time in years he saw his brother, Leonardo, cry.

It had been that moment where his brother let down all his guards, acted like a real living and not a black brother... so sympathetic... it had captured Michelangelo's heart and he never wanted to do anything to betray Leonardo just to once again see that 'real' side his brother boxed up and locked away.

There was something off here. Something that, he had noticed it before but never this strongly, caused him to focus his eyes on the soft inhuman glow to the baby blue eyes. The sight and feel of something else watching contently through all the life and the actions and the feelings of brotherhood...

He felt the hand he had control over for a breath moment touch the face making them look at him. He leaned his face forward as he huskily said, so low... so feral... almost like a lover of death... "Mikey?"

The word ghosted off the skin of the body in front of him making him shiver before the blue eyes shifted to the side almost scared but … the light glow... it was orange.

"Michelangelo..." The smile that bloomed on his face just made the body shiver as he grabbed the chin tightly so it couldn't move, "I see you."


	9. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, Pre-Happy Valentines! 

Michelangelo never knew his brother could be so cruel to anyone other than to Michelangelo himself. He was a brutal leader who showed his skill on the training field, a talented mind when it came to strategy and warfare, but he had never shown such sadistic love or malice to anyone before but as Michelangelo stared at Leonardo now he knew his brother had that side.

If Michelangelo would have been asked why he followed his brother with no questions asked many would assume it was out of fear. Leonardo's friends had admitted a few times that Leonardo was cruel to them. Would punish them if they would pursue a lover on the field, known to happen often, without permission of the family of the person they wanted. It was mixed up and slightly unknown why to Michelangelo that when his fellow clothed colors said this they actually turned red and looked the other way.

He did try to confront his brother after a particular bout of screaming and objects of magic being tossed out the door as a man ran out looking for all the world like his life would be forfeit if he stayed there. Michelangelo believed, as Leonardo's sword was tossed missing the man by a mere inch, that indeed it would be.

Since his return to duty he had noticed more and more people seeking his brother for relationships. His brother was granted that ability to give it out, up to a point. Sex was not allowed unless the high elders granted the eternal marriage. A shame, Michelangelo heard most men complain, because it was the bond that was made through the act that made two pairs united without sin if the blessing was given.

Michelangelo smiled thinking of how nice it would be to have someone there to hold at night. Someone not even Leonardo could tear him apart from if his blessing was given.

The young orange eyed turtle stepped into the room thinking no one else would be bothering his brother but stopped seeing Leonardo looking into Charles's face. The black leader's gaze stern and his mouth in a growling state. Leonardo looked as if ready to kill Charles but his friend had a temper of his own he never showed. Charles was vicious when he desired something. Come to food or tocomplete something he could not do the wolfran put in everything until the bitter end.

Here was no change as Charles stepped forward leaning down so his snout nearly touched Leonardo's beak. The look, a bit of discomfort, crossed Leonardo's face as he twitched to step back but of course didn't give any ground even if to the sharp teethed wolf with a vicious look in his eyes to show he vowed to win this 'match'.

"Am I allowed?" Charles growled his tone of voice no longer the soft caring one Michelangelo loves, but this one sent pleasure down the young black orange eyed turtles arms that made him blushed.

"Well," Leonardo turned his eyes to look at Michelangelo, even Charles followed the movement. A flash in both their eyes made Michelangelo feel like he was being tugged between them and it was uncomfortable but delicious feeling of wanting lust hitting him low in his stomach, "I suppose you would be best for him."

Him? Was Charles seeking a relationship with someone? Who? A pain twisted Michelangelo's heart as he thought of his friend not being there as he was now. Charles' would be with his new lover more than with Michelangelo.

"Is that permission?" Charles asked his breathing growing a bit wilder with obvious hope and something more: ownership?

"Yes." Leonardo's eyes closed, the look on his brothers face was utter defeat as if he lost some battle he had promised never to lose. The struggle Leonardo took to turn from both Michelangelo and the wolf as he got to his feet, his body weighed down, as he took slow steps to his bed before he again spoke,. "Leave my room, Wolf. Brother, may I help you?"

Charles growled as he passed petting Michelangelo's shoulder slightly before leaving. Michelangelo stared at his shoulder a bit surprised. Petting was... new.

"Who is Charles' new lover?" Michelangelo asked walking over to his brother and his eyes traveled over the obvious weary body as Leonardo laid down his legs slightly spread and his arms spread up above his head. His lips opened, tongue wetting the beak a bit, and Michelangelo felt his heart twist as he forced himself to stay still, swallowing hard. Oh his brother look so deliriously good that Michelangelo wanted to taste and feel with his own body the one spread out before him.

"You'll find out soon enough." Leonardo turned his eyes, the look so inviting that Michelangelo had to step back, "Is something bothering you, brother?"

"I heard news that... you've been... sending a lot of people to the medical team, why?" Michelangelo saw the plastron shake under the thin very sparse cloth over it as Leonardo laughed, one hand dropping down to cover the older turtle's mouth making the shaking of his shoulders more obvious. "Are you okay, Leo?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine." Leonardo turned a bit, his hips up more sliding forward as his other hand was trailing down his thigh. "They are all being affected by my appearance here. Most wanting to start a relationship so that when they return home they can marry for the full effect of their lust. You, dear brother, have caught quite a few horny men." Leonardo pulled up grabbing Michelangelo's shirt. With a sharp powerful jerk Michelangelo stumbled falling over Leonardo's body so his face was inches from his older brothers face their bodies feeling each others granted through their clothing.

Michelangelo held his breath eyes closed thinking his brother would do as the other two siblings had, but was shocked to hear Leonardo speak, "I try to protect you so often, Mikey... so so often..." He pulled back then turned his head from Michelangelo's, "I just hope I can find someone to make you happy instead of all these lousy inconsiderate pricks who care only to take what is dear to the Dawns!"

Michelangelo yelped but the look on Leonardo's face returned to the calm expose, though... Michelangelo saw the exterior of what he let others see vanish as he laid back down, "Mikey," Mikey hummed letting his brother know he was listening, "Don't let anyone take what you do not want them to have."

The younger brother though heard another sentence below that though. A powerful one that was directly to the point stabbing into Michelangelo's heart: 'I want to be the one to have you.' but it couldn't have been those words Michelangelo felt inside he so desperately desired to hear for himself instead of in actions, undertones, that were always uttered from the older's lips.

Michelangelo blushed deeply turning around and nodding, " I wont, you... taught me that..."

"Then why did you almost allow Amel to that then?" The grip was harsh on his skin. Leonardo didn't seem to notice as he shifted on the bed moving Michelangelo's thin, small, body to slot itself between Leonardo's legs. The other was sitting up more. Hands pulling Michelangelo up so that his pants hand slipped down showing more of Michelangelo's hips the tip of his slit visible if Leonardo was to look. The older brother breathed the air cold leaving Leonardo's lips to touch Michelangelo's cheek.

"I wasn't … doing it on purpose, brother!" Michelangelo felt weak as he turned his head, his eyes catching how close Leonardo's were to his own. His breathing speeding up as he felt... suddenly aroused... God why did his three brothers make him feel like his head was floating? Why did the feel of Leonardo, the voice of Leonardo, the look, or the way he would show the true way Leonardo loved to sleep when he was alone at home... The curves of his body when he stripped of his clothing not knowing Michelangelo could sometimes see when he was home and his brother left his door to his room or bathroom wide open...

Michelangelo bite down a moan as the pressure grew under his plastron. He wanted free to get fresh air now.

"Mikey, you still gave in without a fight." Leonardo growled his chin resting on Michelangelo's shoulder, who thought of how wonderful it would feel if it was on his skin and not the angel's gifted material. "You let him touch you... like a Dusk would to a future sexual playmate."

"I didn't..." Michelangelo felt the hands sliding up his chest and his face blushed as he closed his eyes his body heating up. He wondered how long he could last before he lost control.

"Mikey, are you sick?" the anger turned to pure fear as Michelangelo head was turned and his hazy eyes looked up into Leonardo's. "You're burning up... You should rest, I'll bring you some water... By the light, you should have told me you were feeling ill..."

And Michelangelo felt his eyes closing the light headed feeling swirling around in his head as the real Leonardo, the fearful, loyal, loving brother, finally showed up at the worst time possible.

He stumbled, hours later, into the tent he shared with Charles before collapsing and he sighed snuggling into... fur? He lifted his head and he heard Charles coughing eyes blinking and Michelangelo blushed looking around, "Are you in...my bed?"

"Well, I was going to talk to you, but I feel asleep... is this how I'm going to wake up every time you get an ear full of that brother of yours?" The words took a while to process and Michelangelo blushed sitting up on Charles waist his eyes looking down at the naked Wolfan and he then realized the look that had crossed between his brother and his best friend.

"You mean... you asked my brother... Are you wishing to die?" Michelangelo threatened leaning his body back down as Charles wrapped his arms around Michelangelo's waist and shell.

"No," He nuzzled Michelangelo cneck, "I only wanted to be with you closer, is that alright?"

"Yes..." Michelangelo smiled submitting because in a way his dream of being with someone like this was finally answered and he did care a great deal about his best friend.

"Can we... kiss?" Michelangelo's smiled even brighter his beak nuzzling and kissing Charles snout.

The hand touched his cheek making him look up, it was Leo and he looked pleased with something. The other Leonardo from Michelangelo's dream world.

"Hey, bro, sorry for waking you up... Splinter just left for the Charmed Marathon at April's." Leo smiled as he lifted up his younger brother's body. Michelangelo paused as he slowly became aware of what was happening.

It was late in the night as Leo helped carry him to his room, a deep blush flushed his face as he saw Donnie licking up Raph's neck already stroking the hard cock. He didn't know if he could do this but he felt his body react as he became more awake.

"Hey, Mike..." Raph moaned as Donnie squeezed a bit harder, "Donnie..." they locked beaks kissing before a bit of saliva trailed down between them.

"Well, since you two started I'll get Mikey all ready." Leo chuckled as Michelangelo felt his body being lifted up, the lips sucking on his neck... god he wanted his Leonardo now.

He jumped slightly feeling Leo lift his body up and pin it to the wall his chest trapping him up there with minimal effort.

"Leo..." He froze hearing... was he in control? "Stop..."

Leo looked up perplex before Michelangelo felt a smile, "Bed?" No he wasn't in control... no he didn't want to go the bed... no he didn't WANT this... no no no...

Leo smiled as Michelangelo's legs wrapped around Leo's waist and he carried them both to the bed next to Don and Raph.

His head turned watching as Raph's legs were spread, a groan of pleasure coming from him. He couldn't stop watching as Raph's eyes turned to look at him as the eyes glowed flashing red before Don's eyes followed Raph's the deep purple glow there along with the smirk.

They both smiled as they continued with their 'sin' even, it would appear, in another world.

Michelangelo gulped as he felt Leo's body pinning him, moving softly against his body... he didn't know how long he would be here this time... he tried to break the connection, tried to wake up, felt himself screaming inside of the body.

There was a smirk in this Raph's face as their eyes never broke contact. Until Raph closed his eyes his head leaning back as he called out Donnie's name as Raph was pushed forward a bit, Michelangelo felt himself sick as he watched them having sex.

```  
Michelangelo's eyes snapped open, his stomach was turning as he grabbed his mouth and crawled out of the tent and a few pace away toward a tree before he began to heave. He cried as he couldn't believe what he had seen. He only wanted his family back... not... not that... not witnessing something that would make him feel...

Just like Amel had made him feel.


	10. Chapter nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michelangelo is struggling with emotions with his relationship with his lover but also his reality.

The hand touched his shoulder, shifting up and down the arm and curve of it, in a hopeful soothing motion showing the wolves worry. Charles looked down at Michelangelo smiling slightly but it was strained and stretched across his wolfish features. Michelangelo had lost some weight and it was becoming worrisome to Charles because not only he had noticed something this drastic with the only person these men seemed to trust in any form of a leadership position. Charles knew Michelangelo had started to forgo meals, all three meals to be precise, and his less than normal sips of water a day showed in his cracking lips. Though what worried Charles to an extent that had him fearful that even if Michelangelo did eat he wouldn't hold it down for more than half an hour was had Charles stomach twisted in knots. Michelangelo was unable to hold down anything with how he was hovering or curled into a spot where the smell of vomit heavily saturated the air.

Some people were talking as they knew to be blaming Amel for it. Others blaming Leonardo's treatment of his younger, softer, and kinder brother. Many blamed the war, finally affecting a far too caring creature that Michelangelo was. Then there also was the fact the two leaders who now replaced Amel and Michelangelo, the younger turtle staying with the group only for the fact that he was in a courting relationship with Charles, were always on the prowl to stir up trouble and blame it upon the third younger black in the group.

These two men were not, in the retrospect of Amel, leaders. They would have prefered a leader who could handle things and not keep drawing attention to their bickering and spit fights. They had an obvious hate towards Michelangelo, for whether being Leonardo the slave drivers brother or the fact he was still so kind and someone people seemed to look up to in this desolate war driven time, but it was obvious each day they went out of their way to harm mentally if not physically the feminine looking turtle boy.

It was no different now, Charles was soothing Michelangelo who was sitting against a tree with the other in his arms resting after for once finally eating something and drinking a cup of water. He had a group, most of the original company they were in, around Charles and Michelangelo shielding the tempering storm and darting snake like tongues with words foul enough that it would turn a Dusk away with disgust from harming the peace that Michelangelo had slightly found with friendly faces.

The men worried this new fight over something as a simple 'go left' or 'go right' would end up being spat at Michelangelo for trying to put his own incentive words into the conversation. These words that actually, to the men, made sense! Though when the fight escalated into a full on screaming match that made birds fly into the air and critters that were resting dash into the forest and grassy type lands not far away it made Michelangelo sigh a low grumble upon his beak that had some balm on it from the few medical blues who knew a thing or two on white clothing knowledge. They were tending to the younger black behind their 'leaders' back out of worry and their desire for their true leader to regain his strength.

Michelangelo looked at Charles with his orange eyes showing how he felt this not right that the men suffered from these arguments but that he had to stand up or nothing would happen but an ambush from the noise that would dissipate and turn into tension.

Michelangelo shifted and he stood with some resistance in the form of the grip from his lover from their spot against a tree trunk. He was unsteady on his feet moving out of the circle of protection to stand before the two, "Ease your tongues. Enough of this dispute. This is not any way for leaders, or blacks, to act for their troops. We are leaders, or would you rather they call us children?"

The two looked at him with disdain before moving away snarling out retorts that they didn't need a childs help nor a brats words in something they could handle, "If you could handle it we would not be behind schedule, we would not be losing valuable time, resources, encouragement, so many things!" both blacks had stopped at Michelangelo's words eyes narrowed their darker colored eyes, contrary to Michelangelo's brighter colored eyes, and rose their pitch to a squawk of vocal cords unpleasant to any forms of ears to hear them in unison in a sort of complaining until Michelangelo spoke up again breaking their attempts to push him down with garbled blabbering tongues lacking in fluid linguistics as Leonardo had taught Michelangelo to do since he had been but a baby.

"You're destroying our troops with fear! Giving us a weakness to our enemy for what? Petty arguments for what reason other than the fact you two don't get along! They are tired, they are afraid, WE as their leaders are to give them hope not tear them down!" Michelangelo looked at them before away seeing their faces.

Discrimination. Why, he didn't know.

"You're young." The first blow was shocking but somehow Michelangelo expected it, though the group behind him seemed in a sudden uproar, "You should be back home sucking on a bottle!" There was more rousing from those he knew, those who would back him up in an instant, "You're pathetic, get back to your 'spot' weakling!"

"I'm doing your jobs!" Michelangelo snapped hand up holding back his 'friends' and at the moment family, "You. Are. WEAK." Leonardo would, Michelangelo felt, be proud of him.

They both suddenly seemed out of control as they moved one tackling Michelangelo's lower legs and the other moving attacking Michelangelo's chest. The young turtle was shocked unable to put up much of a fight as he felt a punch to his lower plastron and the wind knocked out of him for a few seconds. The slice to his neck was a deep enough warning to not kill him but to show power. They were in control, he was not. They had power, he had none.

It made no sense to him why his brother gave this to people who were insane. Michelangelo would never understand Leonardo no matter how much he tried and wanted to. Michelangelo broke free rolling to the side getting up holding a hand to his neck looking down over his body seeing the bruising. The men behind him were bristling and obviously the news was spreading by the feel of magic in the air. Michelangelo sighed lowering his shoulders and he raised his hand, "You two..." Michelangelo clenched his teeth fear for his friends growing.

"See, you're the weak pathetic 'coward'." They both laughed charging again. Michelangelo stood his ground but his eyes widened as he realized the attacks were not aimed at him but at those ready to attack for him.

"N...no!" he shouted, "Leave them out of this! They have nothing to do with our dispute!" Michelangelo turned around his eyes brimming with tears as he saw the men's faces eyes wide shocked as they, some, stood their ground protecting others who they knew needed it after months of being together and fighting alongside each other.

They were family now, every one of them felt that way.

Michelangelo screamed rushing out casting a spell grabbing his flower feeling the petals fall to the earth, "Infatasi ha!" He felt his strength diminish as the shield flew around those he could reach protecting them reflecting the attack back to the attackers. Those bastards.

Michelangelo barely turned seeing the smug look the small turn of the short dagger in one of their hands pointed at him then across their throat. Michelangelo swallowed vision swimming as his flower turned a dark brown orange. He had used too much of his magic protecting those he cared for. That spell was to high of a level for him to use at this moment when he was far too weak physically.

"W...worth it, a...bast...ards."

'Cry my baby, cry your eyes on out. Let the tears go right at the blue mooned sky. Cry my baby, let me know, let me know when I can hold you tight. Listen, baby, listen close because my words might drop and die. Let me kiss your tender lips and wipe away those nasty tears. Hold me, baby, hold me now. Cut and squeeze me so my insides know you're there and always will be near. Don't let go, not right now, not when the world is screaming out... screaming out their pain to you.

Hold me, baby, hold me only till I die because soon I'll be lying on the ground with my heart strewn across the muddy soiled ground.'

The lyrics were familiar to Michelangelo but he knew not why. They were as if a dream but a dream he didn't know fully how to see. It was not something Michelangelo wanted to think on too much because if he really did learn where he had heard this song it might mean him trouble.

Michelangelo look at the fur underneath his hand as he thought, "It has been a few months hasn't it. Three, right...Since our graduation into this hell on the front lines from training..." He eyed where he was noticing that he was in their tent.

"Yeah..." Charles said with a frown, "A month with these two imbeciles, two with Amel... Somehow our luck with them is very low." He looked at Michelangelo seeing the other moving and twining his three fingers through the thick fur. "Right now we are in a corner, Mikey, trapped in it with every step we take leading to a demise that we cannot fight. I'm afraid to lose you. I do not want to lose you. If I do I know what will happen."

"W...what will that be?" Michelangelo looked up shifting as he then moved legs on either side of Charles' waist, "Tell me, even if the words are not pretty and the words a black should not hear."

"I'm afraid I might become a dusk." Charles stated his grip tightened on Michelangelo's hips as his hands had rested there when Michelangelo had shifted leaving clear bruises when Michelangelo would remove his clothing, "I know this in my heart. You are my light. The only light I have."

Michelangelo's eyes closed heart breaking and yet it was so tight in his chest. Somehow that was not what he wanted to hear. He knew what Charles was going to say before the other was to say it but that was not what he wanted to hear.

"We need to stop the two 'leader' blacks than before they... make it hard for us." Michelangelo whispered. "Har...hard for us to be anything, a family in the further future where this war ends."

"How?" Charles leaned up cupping Michelangelo's beak tracing the rough scales that lead to softer ones under the curve of his chin, "How can we do that when they are stronger than us both when they have no fears in using their own team?"

Michelangelo was breaking inside more because he wanted to scream and yell at his love that the other was in pain ,suffering because two of his ribs were broken by those bastards. That his fur on his back had been shaved off because of stitches. That he was suffering all because of him: Michelangelo. Michelangelo felt like he was breaking from everything that was happening. His life was crumbling around him and he had no control of even the smallest dirt of it. He opened his eyes, "Take everyone. Take them... maybe that might..."

"NO!" Charles roared sitting up as Michelangelo fell off his lap onto the ground, "We stood by your side, we took the blows by your side! WE FOUGHT THEM EQUALLY! Do not deny us the chance to do that again. Do not deny me the chance to be with you!" Charles searched Michelangelo's face before his own grew expressive, "Mikey, please don't tell me you are considering that!"

"YES, can you blame me for it?" Michelangelo questioned. "Here I am being beaten down both physically and mentally, Charles, and that... what happened to you all... I will not stand by and let it happen again. I will not let you be hurt. Charles WE are through!"

Michelangelo knew that Amel was gentler than these two somehow. He did not attack the men, he valued them in some- no more than some ways- and he always... what was it that Michelangelo saw that Amel valued in his men. The fact that in battle he knew they were there.

Michelangelo's eyes turned before he laughed causing Charles to move touching Michelangelo's shoulders fearful that Michelangelo had hit his head or worse: snapped, "Mikey!"

"Oh god! He... he was... he meant..." It clicked in Michelangelo's mind then what Amel did back there on the transit that day*. The first day Michelangelo had met him. It all was starting to fall into place and why Amel had been able to keep his flower then lose it at the end. So many things he learned. Michelangelo shrugged off Charles hands before he gripped them, "Charles," he began with a soft tone, "My friend, my dearest friend..."

Charles looked confused before he saw Michelangelo get up, "Mikey, what is wrong?"

"I just realized something, something that is so obvious that I didn't realize... I was, I am, a fool. I care for you, yes, but I am sorry, Charles, we are through. I will do my duty as a black. After all that is why a red is with me. I am a black that you can tame that you can 'top'." Michelangelo looked to the ground standing tall facing the front but his eyes were down so only a fraction of his face was visible to Charles form on the ground.

"MICHELANGELO!" Charles gripped the young orange eyed turtles shoulders before feeling an overwhelming burning in his skin under his fur.

"I 'never' loved you, Charles." and that seemed to have stopped all the fighting from the wolf from his shock at hearing the others declaration as Michelangelo ran off crying in the night hating the invisible eyes that seemed to peer at him from all angles. His small stature, his black clothing, and the high tree tops seemed to be his only refuge from them.

There Michelangelo cried hearing soft voices in his head, 'We fight to protect our comrades.' Amel's words, some of the first he said, "I believe we choose our path. We become what we want. We lift our heads or bow them to whatever will we want. Dawns are sad creatures bound by ropes. So tight around our wrist that a yank of that rope and up in the air above our heads do they go. Our eyes covered by a cloth... Our legs spread so we're screwed standing up with the knowledge that those Elders who never saw a day of war..."

Michelangelo gave a dry humorless laugh repeating Amel's word. God, someone who he hated made more sense to him now than life itself seemed to!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * chapter 4 (or 5 published)


	11. Chapter ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michelangelo gets a taste of something he's never had before. He's also now something that he's struggled to be, but it's not something that isn't unusual.

Soft, it was what he felt when he shifted eyes peering through the cracks, with hints of firmness that was beyond him. Michelangelo tried to put together what it meant in his head but it didn’t fully appeal to him-not yet though. All he knew was that whatever his head was on it was soft and while he nuzzled his beak into it thinking of Charles's fur and how the damn wolf had a habit of grooming it after Michelangelo’s comments on how he loved to feel the fullness, the thickness, the soft texture under his scales, under his body, and rubbing between his legs this soft texture was not Charles's fur.

Michelangelo opened his eyes wider slowly adjusting his vision from the white fluff of the pillow, a normal for him as a black to have such a pristine color pillow and his blankets would be a brown muckish color, that when he rolled over to greet Charles, for who else in his bed could it be, did he smile but the name that fell from his lips was not his lovers or the soon-to-be mates stating they had made up with kissing and hugs and words of love and devotion to one another that would transcend this battle ground scared by blood and enemies, “Leonardo, why are you in my bed again, bro?”

Michelangelo’s blood ran cold as he stared into brown eyes, almost honey-tempting color but they held a mischievous nature that had Michelangelo’s skin running cold and the hands, god Michelangelo wished the hands had not been felt upon the scaley under sides, wait now inner thighs, and the shiver was one that had the magical turtle arching as much as any turtle could. Not that much, Not any arch period but the meaning still implies. The straining of muscles under the shell as they attempt the pleasurable act, the thighs tightening, the feet straight until they are locked and the muscles cramping. Michelangelo’s arms grip Leonardo’s arms pulling Leonardo forward into a dominating kiss and he only pulls back when there is a loud bang from outside.

“Mikey?” Leonardo pulls back feeling Michelangelo flinch as there is another loud head splintering sound that knocks his body flat on the bed as if tossed like a rag doll, “MIKEY!” 

Michelangelo just blinks heavy breathing and he stares up for a few short moments he is in aw, eternal aw because he can move! His hand lifts up and he touches Leonardo’s cheek the blue wearing mask turtle blinks eyes growing wide like melons before the hand comes up, “Michelangelo, what is wrong?”

“You know, I sometimes wish my brother was like you.” Michelangelo whispered weakly, “Though at others I fear you’re far too much what I dream I want from him to show to me.” The hand dropped to his thigh and he frowned, “Dusks... Damn them.... I was having a very ....” Michelangelo felt his world slipping, the dream vanishing, “Very good dream.”

“Donnie! Michelangelo, don’t worry, Do-.” Leonardo’s worried frantic voice tapered off at the words forming and Michelangelo wanted to push and swim back up to hear the rest.

Though could he really when he woke up in the tree looking down at his camp and then into the arms of a blue healing him as best as they could a whole in their lower stomach and one leg missing. A smile though was plastered on their face and they looked up at Michelangelo’s face, “Oh thank god you’re alright... I... thought I didn’t make it in time. You were so...” The blue coughed blood dribbling down his chest and onto Michelangelo’s own black uniform, “Still.”

Michelangelo moved to grip the blues body eyes wide with fear and worry for the other, "What happened?"

"We have been attacked." The blues eyes were sadly looking away, "We are dwindling in numbers and people have been in a panic, Michelangelo, since both those two bastards went missing! Then... Charles realized you were gone. We had a few of us searching for you. My group was wiped out protecting me in keeping you safe while I healed you. You were hurt."

Michelangelo felt his eyes grow wide and he looked down at his body seeing that there was blood on his clothing where it was ripped or in sections almost ripped off. He shivered fearful to think how far deep he must have been in the world and without the link that Charles had provided in the morning it was as if he could not have woken up when he did by this blues sacrifice, "I'll get you to the medical tent or anyone who can help you, just stay with me, alright." Michelangelo moved to lift the other up into his arms or to have them onto his back. Though the male blue shifted shaking his head leaning against the spot, "No, please, I am fine. I don't need it. I gladly accept death that is on my corner of my vision. Go, please, lead our battalion and take us to victory or to safety. Please, Michelangelo!?"

Surging fear was growing into Michelangelo's eyes before he was slightly cursing the males hand dropped to his lap and another to his side off the tree. Dead. Dead from saving Michelangelo’s useless pathetic ass. The orange eyed turtle felt so pathetic that he was in another world sexualy taking 'pleasure' and 'comfort' from another form of his brother while his friends were left here to suffer. What type of person was he? A cruel, sick, demented bastard obviously to be a friend.

Moving to stand up Michelangelo giving the body one last look wishing he could bring peace or at least say goodbye by using the persons name jumped down into the forest surroundings below into unknown peril that fell upon the battalion. The glowing orange eyes scanned the broken tents, the upturned pots and pans, the thrown around clothes, and the few bodies of his men lying there on the ground dying or dead. 

There were dusks of course fallen around dead from the fight but he gave them no bother as they were not the issue that took deep and firm root in Michelangelo’s mind. He rushed out looking and calling for a moment before stilling. Why ... Why were there so few? Why had that blue found him and not ran away? What was the meaning of this all and there was one, of course, but he had been stripped of its meaning by an icey clock of death with ticking hands. When Michelangelo found the two useless black leaders he would drill and beat and abuse the information out of them because this, the death, the loss, the damn chiseled gruesomely into his brain Michelangelo had been teetering on for so long he had just slipped off of and into some murky depth where there was light but it was so far away. For now he would take all his rage out upon the two bastards who caused hell for those he loved in this group that became family: the so called leaders. 

It was a challenging run as Michelangelo dodged through trees following wisps of magic from people he knew, marks in the ground and trees from battles that were not that long ago, and to the most horrifying scene in a grassy field that had his eyes so wide that he knew if he didn’t blink they would fall out. His men were pushed to the ground tangled and screaming out in pain and horror. His people were calling desperately for help their sounds like animals wailing for relief or in sheer desperation for someone, anyone, to be there for them like they were still infants wanting their mother after a terrifying monster in their closet sprang forward and scared them. 

The steps as Michelangelo’s flower had moved along the breeze created magically from where it perched in his bandana over his eyes now was in his hands as he ran petals falling from it as Michelangelo screamings out his incantation. The enraged, fearing for those he loved safety, turtle would not let his men fall to the Dusks. He would not let his failure to see around him, to pull from the brink of that world and to realize his surroundings be the downfall of his battalion.[i] He would not lose his family again![/i]

He watched as his petals floated in the air the sound a buzzing noise before screaming not from his men to stop, for saving, but of agony, death, and blood from the cuts to impacts of each petal hitting their target while they were imbedding into their bodies and each one exploding.

“GET UP!” Michelangelo screamed at the top of his lungs, “You will not fall today!” There was silence as the few Dusks that were still alive stood hesitantly moving away from the ripped and tattered clothing of their prey they were about to be their dining pleasure of pound to pound of flesh from. The Dawns’looked to each other nervousness etched clear as those near, free, when their captors exploded moved scrambling to their feet eyes falling onto Michelangelo. 

The turtle in black allowed their emotions to sink into him but not effect the air he let sour out high and wide around him. He did not let the petals of his that fell from his rejuvenating flower fall as they hummed around him and those of his ‘family’ form close to his side. He was, at this moment, their leader and head of house so he would do everything to act accordingly. Michelangelo moved forward and the Dusks moved back fear seeming to swim around them as they realized Michelangelo wasn’t their typical Black with an inflated ego or a messed up psyche, at least not yet on the last part. Michelangelo was a force to be reckoned with and he would use every inch of his power, his status, and his magic to save his fighters.

“Red, take weapons! Blues, take place!” Michelangelo called as he took his stance, “Greens hold a strong formation! Watch each other’s back. This is our bond, We are family, friends, they will never break that: THIS will be what keeps us alive!” and he watched as more of his kind, Dawns, rushed to his side taking positions able to fight off the enemy. 

So to the green turtle his words as he watched his men, felt them at his side and back, were what made him finally feel like he had a reason to be a leader. They needed him to be pure, to be strong, but most of all to be him, “CHARGE!” Thus began the second battle upon the grassy field some animals most likely treaded upon to graze, migrate, or wonder. The fiend of life that struck down everything but it was the changing point in Michelangelo’s life. The open space, the slight greys to the honey oat hay-like plant that sprung from the ground spreading as far as his eye could see into another three thicket. The sounds of war on all four sides of him as he weaved like water striking down all those who were in front of him that were Dusks, people who could have been like him if not for a sin as simple as pride, lust, envy, and anger, and Michelangelo didn’t hear the sounds of silent feet because the Dusks that were being fought were fodder just like the Dawns under his jurisdiction now. Soldiers of war not meant to ever return.

These were dead men standing.

Soon Michelangelo was screaming in pain as his arm was yanked high over his head a shrill laugh meeting his ears as his flower ripped from his hand and thrown to a pair of boots who stepped upon the petals and pollen crushing it with three turns of their heel and a raised foot before stomping hard enough to dig it into a ground, “We missed one. This ones strong. Very strong, well... It WAS strong.”

“Sadly. We’ll see if it’s like all the others we killed. The blacks are so much fun. Such great Dusks in training! Oh, this one had a pretty face... Can I, please... CAN I... Can I please?” 

Michelangelo yanked his head around struggling before he was in shock before he froze in horror. He remembered a mention in a report on two brothers, wait not brothers....What... were they? His eyes were glued to the faces before he knew then: Hun and Stockman. They were enemies in the Dawns but when one turned the other turned as well. Some had assumed they were lovers behind walls and that was their sin, some assumed their hate was just that deep, but Michelangelo didn’t know as he just looked at them and their seemingly easy co-dependency on each other. He could feel it around them but more so feel it inside him as Hun raised Michelangelo off the ground and Stockman quickly went to work removing the weapons, few he had, and tossing them to the side.

“Go a head, Hun, have your fun. I have other people to attend to. I will see you at the compound. Don’t take too long, I hate it when you do. You know they’ll hate it as.... Don’t GLARE you oaf!” Stockman snarled, “God you’re nothing but a rotten ring-wormed, parasitic, rotten meat of a thug Dusk! Get your killing over with! Toy with your mouse! Toy with this field of damn rodents I just want to get back to slicing your hide since I was winning.”

“If you assume you were, you are far more deluded, Bax-stabman.” Hun huffed.

“Even your comebacks are lacking in intelligent remarks. How you’ve survived I’m still unconditionally confused.” And with that Michelangelo watched the end of the exchange as they both seemed to smile friendly as i this was not enemy warfare but just a game between friends and the chilling thought was: his brothers acted like this. How much mentally did you change as a DUSK? He never wanted to know.


	12. Chapter eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the very long delay I haven't stopped writing I swear! I just am such a terrible procrastinator! I had just one paragraph to finish and because I had no idea how to put it I set it to the side hoping that after finals I could figure it out... then I got a job XD I just spent the last while, It's 3 am in the morning where I am, rereading this to make sure that what I was writing for the ending since I had the idea just barely hit me again ... ") HAHA well, off to make sure things are going well for the next chapter. I don't believe it will be such a long wait... but it might be. Also looking for a beta reader :]

Chapter eleven

The only thing Michelangelo could do was run. His lungs burned, his chest ached, and his eyes were wet with tears as he gave orders to retreat. Retreat to the forest and stick together. He couldn't stand what was happening to his people any more than he could stand what was happening to him being hunted by a deranged Dusk out for 'fun' with his lover. Michelangelo's gaze swept over the plain of golden field tramped by hundred of feet some running, some limping, but plenty carrying wounded comrades. With worry hovering over his heart Michelangelo wondered if this war was truly a battle Dawns could win. Every turn he had seen his people make were overthrown when only a while ago they seemed to have made a few seconds come back against this genocide of their squadron.

Michelangelo ran ducking under attacks that ranged from rocks to real magical shots. His body was bruised, his clothing torn, and his mask had been lost some time ago due to a ferocious grip to his skull he barely managed to get out of. Michelangelo felt like a mouse in a maze hunted by a raging bull. The Bull wanted his blood for a reason Michelangelo knew all too well: He was a black thus a bulls eye was painted in 'red' all over his back. He lunged into the trees seeing his people scatter and it made him smile as once they were there, they had each other more than before, they were able to do things they couldn't. Those two bastard blacks... He felt relief they were dead but terror that he too would leave his family. He hoped that with time Charles could become strong. The red, his lover, was a leader in a way that a black could not be ever. Michelangelo stood up leaning his body against a tree closing his eyes as he focused around him his eyes now becoming his other senses.

It felt strange using an ability he had honed in the other world. He shifted slipping into the trees centering his body, finding a balance, and slowly he opened his eyes his hectic heart rate prior had slowed into a melodic one. He watched Hun slow noticing the way that Hun was looking for him and any other Dawn. Michelangelo's eyes ran around spotting pockets of power, other things that his people were hiding behind. He had to give them time to run away. His flower had been destroyed but he had his crystal. His eyes darted down as he lifted it up and he raised it to his lips, "Mikey, I'm going to borrow you for a moment. I'm sorry if this seems weird but I am not a fighter like you." Michelangelo whispered to the small crystal before crouching down the feelings running through him were strange. IT felt small, it was actually now that he took stock of what was happening. Just the small twitch to his mind and his body felt natural up here like it knew what it was doing hiding in the shadows. It was so small that it didn't know fully what to expect.

He yearned for his weapon... He eyed around before he smiled dropping down near a red, "I need your weapon."

The other looked surprised eyeing around before carefully he removed his flower from around his sash handing it to Michelangelo who tied it with his crystal. He moved finding a few others, a blue and a green, before he moved back to his perch noticing that Hun and Baxter were now looking in the forest with looks of fury and arguing with each other over how to continue. They had been winning but now they would lose. The other Dusks were behind they vibrated and Michelangelo had to blink the dizzy wave as the Dusks turned into people fully clothed with a symbol in red on their chest. He frowned seeing another, darker, sharper with metal figure slightly ahead of Baxter and Hun. His body sent shivers down Michelangelo's body. He felt scared but it vanished soon after it came this vision having left him buzzed somehow. He stepped forward on the branch before he gave a deep breath his Father's words returning to him as they were one of the last he had ever heard, ' _Take not for granted, my son, the light of a vision that creeps into your eyes. It means a future you shall face as a black, a future you will regret in ways.'_

Swaying on the trees Michelangelo let the wind swirl around him. Magic was on the air and it felt familiar and yet so distant. He opened his eyes they glowed brighter before he launched himself a word screamed from his mouth, " _Hinokami: Karada no hakai!_ "* A language he didn't know but it felt like it was from his life he knew it. He watched the air swirl before the ground below where he landed began to melt. A skin of rock, so thin, melted over his body sizzling his skin but his clothing was left untouched. He turned as it hardened and he took another stance watching Hun and Baxter stop arguing eyeing him with the first sign of unease. This to them had to be 'new'. They both shifted eyeing the flowers that glowed, shifting different forms even to the point of nearly growing into the thread around his necklace.

"What spell was that, little baby black Dawn?" Baxter asked frowning obviously not happy with not knowing what it was.

"Something I came up with." Michelangelo whispered his voice sounding raw and abused as if he had been in a desert. His eyes glowed orange before the orange began to fade into a baby sky blue clear and innocent looking where his skin looked normal and Michelangelo began walking raising his hand smiling, "My people are safe, they will not be harmed."

Hun laughed stamping his foot down twice before smacking his stomach wiping his eyes and he looked at the small black turtle as if he was crazy in thinking he alone could fight off the horde of Dusks that were surrounding he forest and still save his pathetic men, "Try it."

"As you wish." Michelangelo closed thinking of what the Splinter of this world taught him and he shifted bending his body until claws of rock, red, grew out of his three fingers. Michelangelo swallowed his throat feeling like it was bleeding raw as if thirsty. He felt so exhausted knowing it was from so many different points. "This is your last chance to retreat."

"Never." Hun said before Baxter could say anything. Hun grinned moving forward a sword developing into his hand and Michelangelo swallowed, "Right now you are the only thing I want to kill. You're 'fun' but not that fun."

Michelangelo growled stepping forward, "Meat head, I'm a lot more fun than you think, you're just not exactly 'meeting' me at a decent standard." Michelangelo felt shocked at his words but he grinned raising his claws, "Come on, lets dance. I'll show you a good time you have never seen in your life."

"Really? Somehow I think you're all talk and no 'play'." Hun charged as Baxter yelled for him to stop.

Michelangelo moved his body feeling light, his skin feeling tight. The rock over him felt like it wasn't his body or scales. It seemed to help with what he called from the crystal: Mikey. He dodged Hun's cuts, moving with more precision than he had ever managed without magic on himself. He felt the thrill of this as he weaved himself in a dance of some sort that was so foreign to him. He was soon moving in every few seconds slicing into Hun's body before moving away. Every time he pulled away he was dragging the giant of a Dusk away from the forest but his senses were on Baxter to make sure he didn't do anything. Every so often he would attack a regular Dusk but they were paralyzed or knocked to the ground by Hun's own clumsy attacks.

"HUN!" Baxter screamed as he came to look at four Dusks that Hun had taken down, "Stop! He's-." Baxter looked up as he felt a heavy weight against the back of his neck his eyes growing wide as he looked slowly behind him. He saw the forest swarmed with the Dawn's.

Hun didn't have much time to react as his body was tackled nearly to the ground. His head hitting the floor of the field dirt raising in a small puff cloud before Hun's eyes blinked a few times as Michelangelo flipped off Hun's body landing a few feet to the side. Hun's eyes turned to Michelangelo's body frowning as he slowly stood up noting the slight change in stature. The more confident but less 'black' standing before him but a mere child in the act of playing. Hun's eyes roamed it for several minutes before retaking his stance his hands gripping the sword more firmly then grunted out, "Come at me, Black."

"Don't need you to tell me, Hun." Michelangelo smiled softly shaking his wrist before he crouched, "I shall remove you all." He moved nearly stumbling slightly before he threw a punch at Hun hitting the sword dead on the rock cracking and Michelangelo hissed. He felt the magic the flowers had draining the longer the fight went on. They were not attuned to his power usage and this form of magic with the crystal was much stranger to him than expected. He would need to train with it again after he regrew his flower once he found the seeds on the battlefield.

Those watching eyed the battle as Michelangelo seemed to be handling the battle well except those who drew power from spells could see the structure around Michelangelo's body breaking down with each hit to his body. His borrowed flowers were not holding up to the assaults that ranged from swipes of the deranged Dusk and the hectic power drain that was wearing him mentally down. They knew it would not be long before Michelangelo would fall. They turned whispering this that they had to be ready to support their leader, their fellow comrade, before the end approached.

They shifted uneasily behind the reds before yelling out a few things furious when Michelangelo had been tossed. The blues, greens, and reds were shifting around the field that were spared from the Dusk that was in their captured hands. They were now taking aim killing the dusks that were weakening and having been taken to the ground by the leading Dusk that Michelangelo was fighting. They had no care since the war had stripped their humanity nearly fully away. The dusks killed them, they killed in return. It was how 'sanity' was kept. Slowly they were able to take the positions that they had been all assigned some in more advantage ones than others before Michelangelo fell again to the ground a weapon that he picked up that he was using, a Dusks, to stop the sword from cutting into his shoulder and further down into his chest cavity.

It was then that a loud scream was heard causing Hun's attention to divert to look where it came from both shocked before a look of horror then fury came over it. Slowly anguish as he watched Baxter's body fall to the ground head rolling a few feet away from the body. He took in the sight before looking at the mass of Dawns gathered around him his mind so focused on Michelangelo, the one black, he failed to realize the 'army' still at the blacks command. How had they regrouped without their leader? HIs lip curled as he put more pressure on the sword, "You'll let me leave or I'll slice him from shoulder to the sweet little 'heart' he has." Hun raised a hand about to let it smash down atop the sword ready to kill and die if it meant revenge for the other of his group.

Slowly a red walked forward and Hun's eyes noticed the wolf features, the way the eyes gleamed dangerously. The already taint there hidden deep down unaware but it would be pulled out one day if it was allowed. He leaned into Michelangelo who was still struggling to win.

"Move away from him, now!" The wolf snarled hand raised, "We have every intention of protecting our leader as he has for us! You will die if you do not stand and remove your body from atop of his own."

Hun swallowed trying to make his dry throat an it less like a dessert before he slowly pulled himself up noticing how some nearly rushed forward but the wolf kept them back by a growl. Second in command? A red? Interesting with how loyal he was but he had their support did he have the blacks trust?

"Hun," Michelangelo coughed, "You will... not win... against me or... my troupe..." The turtle moved slowly away before getting up, "I may not have been strong enough at this time to kill you or your 'friend' but next time I shall be."

Hun's eyes twinkled before he eyed them all, "I look forward to the thought of destroying you all. My revenge will be sweeter on that day."


	13. Chapter Twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I will be getting more time off work/school soon to continue this and several other ideas in the making/past :)

Chapter Twelve 

Heavy was the air around the cat tail field that had laid golden in the sun on the clear day. The tails of honey dew broken scattered like dead bodies around a ten mile wide with area speckled red in some spots or blotches in thick puddles like a lake of their own shining and drying in the sun from the battle raging on around. The trees the only ring seeming to boarder them in to this meadow. The air was heavy and tangent with the copper taste of fallen blood from warriors of both side and the burning smell of corpses as they were used by the Dawns to distract Hun’s attention every so often from Michelangelo as he maneuvered his way across the blood soaked fields his feet slipping, his shirt missing, and his shell cracked from the abuse of ten tons of Dusk fists hitting into them from the brawl of flesh on flesh fighting. Animal even to those who were descendants of dogs, wolves, and bears. The fight was growing longer, the time of day shortening to night, but to them it was seeing who took the moment to kill.

The dawns could tell that Michelangelo, their Black leader who they would stand by, was not going to make it no matter how much healing magic they poured into his being. His body was being ripped, his muscles being shredded, and his eyes were bleeding. They all could see this spell was taking too much out of him and they feared he would not make it when it was the time for him to ‘end’. Would the dusk win? Would the dusk kill the whole group? Would they all turn on their friends? These thoughts they knew were tainting their magic, their circles of trust so weakly forged by Michelangelo’s fighting. It was not until Michelangelo had fallen once more landing on his stomach slowly, much more than before, did they see it the waving of the magic in the air and then the shattering that pulsed in the ground hitting them all that had Hun salivating. The crystal around Michelangelo’s neck lay on the ground lace broken and burning before Michelangelo turned his head seeing a fist raised to hit his vulnerable skull.

A small gasp before he closed his eyes, “It is the end, you disgusting pathetic-.” But he didn’t get far before Michelangelo’s body shivered as a loud scream came from the group with terror.

The music. The music was so strong and crystal clear. It had the turtles eyes opened wide staring up into Hun’s eyes who was looking around horrified as if he too could not understand this. This music he should know by heart.

Donatello appeared his scythe twirling around his arm as he watched them singing softly, “Light or Dark, dusk or dawn. Pick or choose which side to be. A choice we all must make one day.” It was followed by Raphael who moved in the dirt trailing his own weapon his body a bit more hunched but his head was high and his teeth showing that he was also salivating for a fight.

“Not the faint of heart can choose, but easier when your heart stolen by the love I grant.” Raphael’s position paused a few feet as Donatello moved forward looking at them all and he gave a bow his scythe slicing into the ground and in this action he hissed the verse that made many step back.

“My hand shall reach your wounded state for I love you ever more. Not I who care for either Dusk or Dawn, Light or Night my child it is you shall pick!” To again repeat to Raphael as if this was a duo concerto their voices opposite with one being lower and the other a higher pitch. One with a higher lust of insanity and one more safe and understandable. Raphaels though one clearly in this line one desiring blood then and there but held it back in Donatello’s presence and maybe Michelangelo’s.

“Fight or die. Kill for me. I stand everly proud of thee. You’re near my heart if you look just right. I’m next to thee always.” It shifted from rough and violence to a almost sweet tone, loving, and very discreetly sexualized from Donatello his hand tracing up and down the shaft of his scythe and he looked at Michelangelo.

Donatello moved forward but never letting go it dragged for only a short bit before stopping and he hissed, “ Love me, hate me, I shall guide you correctly. Hate me, love me. I shall kill you firstly. Know this, my sweet child I’ll say this: Thou are my perfect creation.”

Followed by their eyes trailing over Raphael's body soon he and Donatello soon were standing side by side one with a look of pure malice and desire for blood and the other logical, calculated butchering murder on his facial expressions but with a sweet twist of his lips and a show of kindness to just one in his sight, “Wings of an angel. Feathers to soar in the sky.” As this was said by Raphael Donatello stated at the same time, “Wings of a devil. To plunge and stab the bird on high.”

“Light for the Dusk. Night for the Dawn. I call upon you, my children.” Michelangelo whispered tears in his eyes the words of that song that stole his brothers had never left his mind once since that day he first heard it. The day his life changed for what he believed to be the worst.

Hun had stepped back some more eyeing them as Donatello bowed before the whole group a small smile on his lips, “IT is a pleasure to meet you all!” He said in a rather sarcastic cheerful voice standing up leaving his scythe stuck in the earth. “To finally meet the friends of my dear youngest brother is rather making my skin crawl with excitement.” His eyes gleamed a purple three shades lighter than their darker hue as they trailed over them all, “I’ve kept my eyes on you lot, tested out your bonds, but I must state- you are all drivel when it comes to actually putting mert in sacrifice.” The words fell into a scratchy, irritated tone as he moved to stand before Hun and Michelangelo.

The dawns eyes were mixed between Donatello and Raphael before the red eyed turtle spoke walking forward, “Well, they are not Dusks, that’s for sure.” He chuckled eyeing a few, “They don’t know the means of what it takes to protect and serve with people. Just yourself and their virtuous ways. They’d rather let another rot under a dusk then attempt to save them, Donatello, that is what they are taught. Why else do they hide behind Michelangelo who always does their dirty work for them? Hm??

A few dawns attempted to step forward but were stopped by Charles as he eyed them, “Michelangelo come over here now.” He growled not caring of the rank difference because he could see the lost and confused look on the face of the orange eyed black reptile. He growled out orders to others who took defensive and offensive stances. Charles stepped forward then nearly next to Michelangelo, “You’re wrong.We respect Michelangelo’s choice to protect us. He stood forward and we stood back because we supported him in a way that our ability allowed us. We all are unique and standing by Michelangelo, a sympathetic and strong black, makes us know what real power is!” Charles growled slamming a fist to his chest.

Donatello turned his attention to Charles his eyes critical in his study before he growled uneasily, “Are you getting in my way of attempting to be brotherly towards my dear younger brother?”

Charles chuckled, “If you cared you would have stayed as a Dawn by his side.”

Michelangelo’s eyes snapped to Charles shocked before Raphael’s outburst of laugh caught all their attention even Donatello’s having the second oldest turtle turn around eyeing him with a slightly surprised look. The red eyed turtle just grinned before stating, “I like him. We should keep him. He’ll be fun to play with!”

Shaking his head Donatello looked at Charles before Michelangelo, “Raphie, Raphie he has no glow! We cannot just ‘take’ what isn’t fully ours yet.” He smiled before bowing, “Brother, if you will retreat with your wounds and tail between your legs we’ll gladly take our own from doing any more damage.”

Charles paused before he swallowed wanting to take this order noting how Michelangelo eyed the two of them unsure, “I want assurance that we all will be alright.” Michelangelo growled grabbing onto Charles waist and then upper chest using his fur to pull himself up, “Can you... promise.... One week, brothers, one week where we will not be attacked?”

Donatello eyed Hun accusatory before Michelangelo curiously his intrigue peaked before he nodded his hand twitched as a chain dragged out of the ground from his scythe into his hand his palm slitting it before holding it out, “Acceptable. Besides I would not wish you harm, Mikey, only Leo and others.” Donatello grinned seeing how Michelangelo struggled to slice his own hand upon his friends thrones from his flower and shake his hand. Turning Donatello waved his hand, “Take care of him, little wolf, until I find you are no longer fit to stand next to and support him. Until then Raphael shall keep a close eye on you lot.”


	14. Chapter Thirteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not posting in a while! I never knew that taking a photography class meant so much work, it's old style hand cranking film where I have to develop the photos myself in a dark room. The chemicals smell terrible! 
> 
> Well this was going to be for Halloween so it is a bit late... Happy Belated Halloween?

The rain was in thick sheets spreading out over the field as they headed past the last remaining hills to a steep decline into a vegetation of vines and high grass. This was swollen with rain water, this valley of marsh, that the group walked through was less easier to get through to as they walked helping those who had a harder time with water on their shoulders. It was a while as they made it to a decent tree that they made camp up inside it using wood they gathered and dried with magic to make a tree fire.

“Michelangelo.” A blue shivered as he spoke, “Do you think any of the others survived? The other groups ahead of us?”

Michelangelo shrugged before taking a breath his voice was broken up as he thought of all the people that were ahead of them in this area or that he had ran into when they had made meetings for information exchanging. He eyed the outcropping of high trees with no leaves, dead from the fires that magic wrath and real fire caused, before he spoke in a soft voice, “All I know is I sent messengers to them all in hopes of a meeting. IF they are there we will know how many survived this damage that has taken many of our own in this group.” 

The blue nodded weakly before he moved dangling his feet off the branch eyes narrowed over the whole expanse of forest, “It is beautiful if not wrecked by destruction.”

“Beauty is many things,” Michelangelo whispered, “but it lays in the eyes of one who sees the world as above the standard of light and the dark, the green and the ash of the destroyed world.” The turtle looked at his comrades all huddled together, “We, our family, shall stand strong. From this point on we will begin training so that no one will be the weakest member of our group. We will not allow our fears to destroy us. That song we will counter with our own.”

He took a breath and stood up, “Everyone hear that!” The chorus of his comrades screaming their tears, their anger, and other emotions of ‘yes, Black-sama’ had him raise his hand a white platform building itself in the air as he stepped onto it a soft call forming in his throat as he looked up at the stars before he slowly began to dance to his fallen comrades to send them to peace and to allow those in his group time to heal as he did the complicated dance. 

\---

Fifty men and animal humanoids had survived the battle with Hun and his men. Michelangelo couldn't stop feeling it was his fault. He let his people fall victim to a terrible death. His eyes were straight ahead but he was seeing as if in a fog. The camp was coming into view and there was fire, there were tents, and there were people coming forward from them to a rather strong, complicated magical barrier fearful of stepping out and worried about letting anyone else in. 

Michelangelo understood their fears but at this moment they had to get his weary few troops to a magically enlarged tent for medical treatment. HE still had a few severely wounded. Michelangelo looked down at the ground before he peeked at Charles with a small smile, “We made it.”

“Almost. Still got to get inside.” Charles smiles back but he leaned down nuzzling Michelangelo’s shoulder, “Then we are safe like you and I both want.”

They reached the barrier before the shield slowly dropped and many of those inside shuffled about helping the many different colors to specific tents. Michelangelo felt panic at the separation of his company but a hand came down upon his shoulder his head snapped to the side a knife in his and made of wind pressed into the person's stomach, instinct now, and he looked up, up... wow, This person is tall… into the dragon red eyes glinting gold here and there. His hand dropped, Michelangelo quickly took stalk of his disheveled attire and broken arm in a sling, before he questioned, “Are there any other blacks?”

“You’re the first and only one we've seen since-.” The dragon paused obviously taking a moment to collect his emotions, “Each of our own leaders had been killed in their battles against the Dusks.” 

Michelangelo couldn't hide his horror at the mere thought before he stepped back, “No! That’... that is im-.” He snapped out of slightly before his brother’s face slipping forward into his mind, “My brother! Leonardo, was he in any company here?”

“I do not know. Many of them have yet to show or we came across massacres during our travel of other dusk companies. Please, can we discuss this with little less public means of those around us, black?” The dragon uneasily eyed the small group looking them over uncertainly. 

“Oh, yes, sorry.” Michelangelo stood up moving to follow the dragon who obviously knew the camp more than him. 

They came to a secluded section of the camp and the dragon looked down at Michelangelo waiting for anything that the turtle might state.

“I was barely put into the position of command here of this camp from the fact I was quick to take control of the situation after our commanding officers died. After we got your message, as I am now positive it was you who sent it, my company joined two others on the way here who got your message in the same way as I had.” The dragon stated upon Michelangelo’s questioning gaze as to why he came forward to talk to the black instead of anyone else.

Michelangelo nodded, “Thank god they had a leader for the most part...” Michelangelo turned his head thinking on everything that had happened in this war. Amel would have come up with something, but Amel was the enemy now. He turned his head back, “Do you have anyone you trust, four people form the group you are in. Red would be the best.”

“Yes...” The Dragon shifted standing taller than Michelangelo, he towered at nearly eight feet, and Michelangelo cranked his neck up further to just get a view of the Dragon’s chin, “I take it you want the position of command.”

“I don’t want it, no, but I’m going to make sure we’re safe before someone challenges for it.” Michelangelo bared his teeth stating that now would not be the time to fight. The Dragon seemed to approve of this statement as he left Michelangelo who stood there finally allowing his fear rolling over his body.

He could not believe that his brother was indeed dead. After all this time fighting, all this time in the war, training, his brother was the strongest of them all. Yet somewhere inside him he felt Leonardo still existing, neither evil nor good, and he felt the exhaustion slowly begin to crawl into his system. He’d have to assign someone as his second... Right now he needed to set up something that was a leading role for these men who lost so much and gained very little but doing it dead on his feet was literally impossible.


	15. Chapter Fourteen

Michelangelo found himself in a room after his body wandered around the camp soon discovering one that was empty with a black mark tally on it for any of his cloth kind to be situated in. He sat down on the bed eyes roaming several other empty cots in the room and he felt tears bristling behind his eyes. How had the world come to this? How had he fought for so many months to end up in hell? How had Leonardo been killed by this ambush? It all seemed like a nightmare as he attempted to put the pieces together in his mind from the start of the adventure to the trial of being nearly raped, welcoming the sin of lust into his heart for Charles, and more so than anything fighting the strange urges to go slip to the other world and desire Leonardo’s hands over his body.

His head hung in shame and tears streamed down his eyes as he plucked his flower from its perch where it regrew so many days ago to hold in his hands uttering a soft prayer for their fallen friends and his fallen brother. His heart hung heavy in the air as he curled up tossing a blanket over his shoulders before thoughts crept into his mind. Would he really be so upset like this if it had been Charles who had died instead of Leonardo? He cared for Charles, yearned so for the wolf, but he had on several occasions thought of scales, gone to the other world for a blue masked Leo to hold him, and he loved every second he had under his brothers care in his world be it abusive or not. Charles was perfect if not pushy in his affections to kiss, hold, and to on those rare out of control moments ‘make-out’ as the other world Donatello pointed out the action would be called, he did it with the whole family in the other world beyond the stone.

His eyes drifted thinking upon so many things until a familiar low growling like purr came from the door and he turned to spot Charles, “What is it? Any more troops arrive?”

“No, but the Dragon asked that I come to care for your wounds. He believes you should look presentable and strong in front of the people. You... you’re exhausted both in the physical realm and the realm inside your head where your emotions lay thriving upon knowledge your eyes have given, ears have provided, and your realization of loss and tormented them into even more so.” Charles moved kneeling down at the head of the bed, “Michelangelo, my love, I know this is terrible. I know everything we have gone through, you have suffered, was a price none of us wish to suffer but please take refuge that you have those outside looking for your welfare, offering to care for things they know you would put first before your own needs. They desire you to know they have the will to carry on; can you, my love, carry on for them in our greatest peril?”

Wolfran eyes moved inch over slow inch over the covered body he knew well from years at the others side before he shifted touching Michelangelo’s cheek, “You look like you are at death’s gate, my dearest friend. Rest?”

Michelangelo almost wanted to but a look at Charles’ face said more to Michelangelo than anything. He needed to be out there than resting, “I’m good. I rested long enough.” He whispered, “Just let me go out there and get our people safe and more organized?”

Charles watched as Michelangelo struggled, swaying as he got to two feet then to keel almost completely over nearly hitting the bed if not for two strong arms around his waist, “No, I think you need to rest. Please let me handle this as your second-in-command?”

Charles moved sitting on the bed pulling Michelangelo up against him, more alone than they had been in so very long, and he listened, “There is no blacks, Charles. There is no spot for rest for me. I am in need of staying with my head high, feet to the ground, and everyone knowing there is hope.”

“But everyone needs to know that the person they look towards is not going to just keel over from stress of lack of proper care to themselves. You need to rest, please, for the rest of the night and then I will help you with everyone, everything, in our camp.” Charles’ words meant so much to Michelangelo and he hugged the wolfran tight to his chest crying into his fur that was exposed at his chest, Oh how happy he was to be with Charles, to feel love, to know that someone was with him through everything. He moved lifting his beak up into Charles own snout kissing the other softly before smiling shyly darting his eyes away. Oh how he would do anything to just feel wanted. He knew in his heart that Leonardo would never want him the way Charles continued to profess his love to Michelangelo. Why was he even thinking so hard on how Leonardo might be like the turtle brother from the other world? That was just a dream! This, right here, was where he should be focusing his attentions.

A pawed hand lifted his chin up and Michelangelo’s eyes caught onto Charles before the emotions behind them held their gazes firm. Oh how long they wanted to be one... Michelangelo felt one hand slide under his shirt spreading it out from the wrapped position it held and he was carefully pushed to the bed. His orange eyes stayed upon the red darting between each lingering gaze, the dipping look of Charles’ sight as Michelangelo felt his shirt undone and his chest exposed. The soft, strong, but dominant grip upon his waist as the cot dipped, shifted, to accompany Charles’ weight pushing his legs wide apart but it felt so natural after so long being with the other, not sexually but just with. A soft rumbling growl left Charles’ lips before a name passed the tongue of the wolf on top of the turtle, “Michelangelo?”

“Yes, Charles?” Michelangelo swallowed eyes wide, aroused and shocked by this turn of events, but he smiled because in truth he needed, wanted, this distraction from everyone outside. From the realization he lost his world, his brother, and that he too was being hunted down. He needed to feel loved, wanted, and to feel appreciated after everything this war had begun to strip him from. Michelangelo wrapped his arms around Charles’ shoulders gripping the fur his hands having tugged and pulled the fabric as much off as they could before he was soon feeling the soft strands of his... what would he officially call Charles if this went further?

“I love you.” Charles whispered into Michelangelo’s ear before he slowly began to pull the pants down. Michelangelo flushed so red he knew his scale skin was changing colors.

 He moaned though due to the fact he loved the forcefulness of Charles, the sheer strength his friend would show when he wanted something. Wanted to kiss, bite, suck, or... Michelangelo blushed as his legs were lifted up and his pants, shin guards, and shoes were taken off. His orange eyes wavered with lust as he stared up at the half naked toned fur body. Even without being a Wolf he could see the desire rolling down Charles’ skin standing the fur high on end.

 “Michelangelo...” the tone... low... no... Lower than anything Michelangelo had heard before when they would cuddle, kiss, or touch each other to make the sensations higher. This was new. Michelangelo closed his eyes as, again, his name was said sending the vibration through his body. “Michelangelo, my love.”

 “God just start!” The black panted as his body was pinned by the muscle that lined the lean body of the wolf man. He moved up as his hands gripped the fur while Charles kissed him deeply, the wolf tongue roaming inside the turtle’s mouth taking his tongue into a fierce battle.

It lasted for a few seconds before they pulled apart, the pressure becoming unbearable. Michelangelo looked up into Charles face and saw he too was suffering this lust. The look, small to the point of fleeting, crossed the bright red orbs and Mikey felt a sudden completion: This was undying love. Thus he began lifted his hips grinding softly into the hardening cock of Charles and the moan... the lowering of the body the wolf had, and the sudden flush to Michelangelo’s face.

“Charles?” he stopped the action but the face turned, the mouth husky, as he growled that Michelangelo couldn’t stop. Mikey grinned as he continued with his friend starting to do the same.

“Drop down, Mike.” the commanding voice had always sent Michelangelo over the edge, he thought maybe it was because he was always the one being commanded and never the commanded.

The feet of the rough pads of Charles’ fingers and palm caused pleasure to course through the turtle’s body as he bucked and twisted under the Wolf. He wanted more, he suddenly realized with deep shame, and he wanted Charles. He knew this was a sin but he didn’t care...

“Charles~” he gasped out as his friend pulled away. “Please...” the word was so small, so forceful, that Charles seemed almost taken back. He pulled away, his eyes narrowed, before his head shook.

“That’s a sin, not without... the Elders permission. I don’t want to lose you to that path, my love.” Charles leaned over pulling Michelangelo into his arms, “I won’t...”

“I’m... stronger than that. I won’t leave you, I promise.” He used the same words Charles had when Michelangelo had felt all alone. Charles never left him when Michelangelo tossed him to the curb. He wanted his first taken by someone who he loved and not a Dusk, not Raphael nor Donatello.

“Michelangelo,” it was that question again, the one of ‘are you sure’, “My love?” but it was urgent and barely contained beneath the skin.

“Yes.” It was all that had to be said as Michelangelo’s legs were lifted up to wrapped around loosely against Charles hips as the wolf started to push a single finger into the puckered hole. The moan, clenching of sheets, and the fire blazing in Michelangelo's eyes was tipping the control Charles was not use to losing.

“You... don’t have... to be gentle... and prep...” Mikey panted through the pleasure.

“I could hurt you.”

“And you won't, I know you won’t.”  The soft knowing look of trust was in Michelangelo’s eyes as he said this to his lover. Charles nodded smiling as he pulled his finger out and he began adjusting himself to push in. He just watched his lover’s face as the hands drew up clenching into the fur on the Wolf’s chest.

Charles continued to look at Michelangelo but as he nearly started to push in he gave a deep startled inhale at the stabbing feeling of metal puncturing his back between his shoulder blades. He widened his eyes looking carefully around though his sense of smell told him more than he needed to know about who was behind him.

“And what do you think you're doing to him?” it was the rolling anger from each carefully punctuated word that made Charles feel that he had just lost the only chance to ever be with Michelangelo.


	16. Chapter Fifteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas!!! I hope you all enjoy this! It was a lot of fun to get two chapters out in one month. 
> 
> Note this one is a bit more sexualized then the others! So... everyone who enjoys a turtle drama-romance-etc I hope you like this!

Chapter 15

Charles moved to the corner of the tent grabbing whatever clothing he could before actually reaching it that were his eyes watching the sword and Michelangelo’s older brother both in concern and fear for what was about to happen in the next few minutes or more so over a longer gap in time for their lives. Charles watched as Leonardo’s eyes moved from the wolf’s face, pure disgust rolling threw the twitches in his snarl, to his brother who was ripping off a blanket pulling it over himself as if a female shame in every fiber of the move eyes low to the ground tears in his eyes that occasionally slipped down. Disappointment for allowing this to go so far that now his brother knew about and fear that the one person who ever showed him such love, loyalty, and kindness might be punished for something they both wanted.  

Michelangelo’s eyes looked at Leonardo’s questioning ones before he turned his head sharply tensing up ready for any sudden lashing, any verbal abuse, anything his brother usually gave him when he failed. Oh how he wanted to prove he was still the good little brother turtle who followed rules, who did what had to be done, who was not a failure in the eyes of someone a young blue eyed turtle most looked up to in his entire life.

“Look at me.” Leonardo’s voice was cold as he spoke to Michelangelo eyes narrowed as they peered over the best they could the covered body shivering with fear and sobbing tears, “I said, ‘Look at me’!” He snapped louder than his prior demand making Michelangelo jump dropping the sheet to his waist as he sat ramrod straight eyes wide tears now trailing down his face as he gazed up almost in a haze, prior memories of an angry elder brother surfacing, and he nodded showing he was at attention. His arms clenching the dirt though he desperately wanted to pull the blanket back over him, cover him up from his brother’s peering gaze, and he looked at Charles briefly before his brother. HE could see the fury there over his face, the worry under it in his eyes as they looked over his skin exposed, and a shudder went through Michelangelo’s body at the slight hurt look that Michelangelo could not define in his number of understood face signs his brother gave. Hurt for what? That he was about to sin? Hurt that he was about to be with the one he loved? HURT because he was half bare to his elder brother and lover, who he both cared for n a way a heart should not?, and it caused him to look down baring his shoulders and neck to Leonardo.

“Tell me what is going on, brother.” Leonardo’s voice was calm, a force calm to control his rage that at any moment would split through and slice anything up he felt was against the Dawn’s rules.

The younger black opened his mouth attempting to force the words that were needed out but he almost cried instead a deep shake plowing through his body as he curled tight into a ball mouthing out words again.

“Do not make me repeat my question or he shall suffer, brother.” Leonardo threatened with a tone that had Michelangelo’s head sling upwards eyes on his brother. There was so much love in that tone, so much confusion, so much disgust, fury, hurt.... Vulnerability.

Was his brother attempting to understand why he was allowing this with Charles? A Dawn black leader attempting to understand sin of the heart for love where he felt so alone without love from the one he had lived under his whole life? A brother who was so overprotective to...

“Do-...” Michelangelo began swallowing to get moisture in his throat, “Do you hate me for what I was about to do?”

Leonardo actually flinched stepping back torn by the words, by his sword at Charles throat, by his dagger of his eyesight pinned upon Michelangelo before he looked to the ground a nervous habit of his surfacing as he bit his lip until it actually began bleeding then he eyed them both more somber as he spoke, “I revoke my permission for you two to mate or be intimate together in a way that leads to any sin.” The calm was unlike anything Michelangelo ever heard in Leonardo's voice, almost relief, as he eyed Michelangelo, “You two will not in any way be together so that a Dusk may ‘take’ this sin you two have began and twist it even more demented than a mating should be. If you both make it... maybe the elders will allow it but it all depends on how they ‘feel’ about what you have done here, today, out here on the battlefield.” He turned to Charles eyes turning cold, “Get up, get dressed, and get out. You are never to see or speak to my brother unless I or another are within earshot or sight. I expect you to be ready for your new ‘reassigned’ division, Charles, you lack loyalty my brother needs in a fighter.”

Charles held his head down as he stumbled forward gathering his remaining clothing only to flinched as he clearly heard ‘stay away from him’ from a deep growl in Leonardo’s throat. Charles was horrified to be caught doing something like this to the one he loved by the others brother since he, like Michelangelo, had also assumed Leonardo was dead after returning here to find no surviving blacks.

A few minutes was all it took for the wolfran to be fully dressed where after a second of double checking Charles gave one last look to see if Michelangelo would be okay with a brother in such a state could see the small smile that was only meant to give the wolfran courage that things would be fine before Charles left the tent. To everyone who knew the two turtles relationship they knew like he how abused Michelangelo was to the older turtle who was Michelangelo’s legal guardian. Knew the measures that went behind closed doors and he felt his chest tighten knowing he couldn’t protect the small turtle like he had sworn the day he knew his love for the reptilian was actually love on a sexual forever level.

This was all his fault and he feared for whatever state Michelangelo would be in the next he saw him.

Michelangelo watched as Charles left the room his eyes soon hanging low as he looked away attempting to look anywhere that was not his brother’s body or face. He did not want to know what his punishment would be for this crime he about committed. It took him several seconds to realize that Leonardo was in front of him and his eyes moved up to his face to the smile, so familiar as a child that made his body ache with the pain it always brought, that his stomach dropped. He watched Leonardo drop down to the floor in front of him moving to grip his arms to pin them at Michelangelo’s own side and said turtles stomach twisted with distress making him nearly nauseous.

“How long have you had these thoughts, brother?” Leonardo whispered leaning in closer to Michelangelo the words trailing off into a hiss as the strength turned bruising, suffocating, from Leonardo’s grasp. Michelangelo’s eyes looked at his brothers before struggling weakly before Leonardo began again his face inches from Michelangelo’s sending shivers down the younger turtles body of fear yet the same of pleasure knowing his brother was so close... so much closer than he ever had been before. “Is it from what Amel did to you before?” Leonardo's eyes, Michelangelo felt, were piercing into his skin seeing all the flaws that lay inside him before against the slit of his ear the leader of the blacks whispered, “Or is it your brothers who plant such thoughts?”

This caused Michelangelo’s eyes to snap open his gaze focused on Leonardo confusion before fear. No, his brother couldn't... no..., “Our worlds... or that worlds that tempt you so, my dear sweet brother.”

“Neither!” Panic spread through Michelangelo’s body as he struggled with renewed passion to throw his brother off but he failed to see how close Leonardo had gotten both Michelangelo’s legs spread wide with Leonardo pushed between them the clothed body of Leonardo’s pressed firmly into Michelangelo’s who gasped a full body shiver pulling a moan out of him as the struggling caused him to push his erection that had dimmed slightly but flared a few times back into life his body suddenly fully sensitive, needy, and he felt power he had before accumulated drain from his very limbs. His hips seemed to gather all that strength that his other body lost moving to push up against Leonardo.

Leonardo’s eyes were wide as the crystal around Michelangelo’s neck his gaze hazed by the deep panting moans but to his not so surprise Leonardo felt his body respond to his younger actions. He tightened his grip trying to pull Michelangelo out of this but in the back of his head goading his brother on for more. He glared but Michelangelo’s eyes were lost in the lust, the sin, and Leonardo felt soon he too would fall close behind his brother. He-... He felt the lust grow in his chest and loins. The love, desire, need he always forced away that lead him to Michelangelo. In his own need for years created, his own demented desires, he moved pinning Michelangelo more so that their palstrons were tight together except for the clothing.

With the sin beginning Leonardo closed his eyes figuring he had no other way but forward from here. He moved lifting Michelangelo’s arms up to the bed pushing them hard down in a command to stay there before he breathed over Michelangelo’s lips, neck, and he could see the confusion over Michelangelo’s eyes. Leonardo watched as Michelangelo bared his neck after tilting his head back and he felt such pride that it was now for him while not realizing Michelangelo’s slight fear that he would be harmed.

“Mikey.” Leonardo churred feeling the body freeze beneath him as he kissed then licked up to a pulsating vein in his brother’s neck, “You’re just like Donatello and Raphael, you know that, they were curious also about the sins.” The tongue and its owner moved back before standing uneasily as Leonardo fought his body, his need to be near Michelangelo, his eyes looking down upon the open body beneath him and he yearned for more than what he had just dipped in and tasted, “Get dressed and go to the lake nearby. I expect you to take a long bath to cleanse your body of your sinful lusting.”

When Michelangelo looked up to his brother confusion on his face minored by the sins he held he watched the look of defeat as if a battle raged wound had coursed its scar across Leonardo’s face showing a splatter of defeat like blood. The way his body was tense, shivering, and curled with one arm around Leonardo’s waist holding back as if injured was a look of confinement to suffering that Michelangelo felt under his robes blood coursed down his body like rivets searing his flesh. This weakness, this lusting, this-... whatever had just happened had injured his prideful brother to now being ashamed struggling with things inside his well organized head and whatever it was Michelangelo fully didn’t know was winning it would seem slowly but surely.

\----

The water for bathing was outside the protective barrier. Michelangelo felt saddened that he had to cleanse himself of something he felt was great but he knew it would lead to tragedy later on for his people he would lead. Thus being caught in the tide of emotional distress and the slow growing fear of knowing that the one you had yearned for knew of your sexual desire was something that sunk like a rock in the young turtles chest. Michelangelo was not known for handling his problems like others. He let it grow it like a plant in his chest letting it ripe before it demanded all his attention before he broke down. This plant had years to finally grow its fruit and only three hours earlier he had taken a bite of the delicious thing: His romantic love for Leonardo, his brother.

If Michelangelo could have taken it back, could have changed his reactions and not have grown so aroused … Michelangelo dropped his body again into the water, halfway out into the lake, and he mumbled at the feeling still building behind his plastron. He wanted his brother in such a way... he wanted to be ravished, to feel that tongue again, feel the tightened grips...

A moan left his throat as he began to knead the feeling loving how it made his skin extremely sensitive. A touch of the water was like hundred pieces of cloth rolling over him. Michelangelo let out a small gasp as he dropped into his hand. He knew what he was doing was sinful. ‘Masturbating’ was a crime as it meant you used another person selfishly in your mind. Abused them... misused them... wanted them without their permission.

And how he wanted Leonardo in a way he had for a while wanted Charles.

Another moan left him as he began pumping himself loving the feel of the water as a lubricant. Enjoying the vibrations of the pressure in the water as it moved with his body. Michelangelo felt closer to a climax but it didn’t come just like usual though his frustrations turned to horror as small snickering could be heard behind a rock.


	17. Chapter Sixteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not replying last month. Truth be told I learned a horrible fact about milk :\ Never trust it past the expiration date and NEVER make a smoothie with bad milk >:( But I'm back on my feet struggling with school, (already severely behind) and I sat down edited the CRAP out of this (to my sworn oath I think I suck at betaing shit) for three days as I worked on my English paper. 
> 
> **Chapter Warnings:** Abuse, sexual/mild assault, mental anguish, and brotherly affection gone interesting.

Chapter 16

The water didn’t care that it was blue, that it was crystal clear, or that behind a rock would be a painful sight, horrifying one indeed, for a young orange eyed turtle who gave a deep gasp before turning doe eyed as he gave a swallow attempting to covered himself up when he turned the corner to gaze behind the rock. To Michelangelo’s shock stood his brothers bare of clothing and eyes sluttily moving over each other in a way their younger brother would rather wash from his mind but.. the two elder Dusk brother’s were not that different from the other worlds Donatello and Raphaels’ goo-goo eyes with added lovemaking that his alternate self would sit in on with his ‘popped corned’ all the while make slight suggestive filthy comments over their affectionate attention. Oh to know it was true in his own world made Michelangelo re-evaluate how one world he could handle but another, his own, was making his jaw unhinge. 

So as Michelangelo watched both terrified and confused he witnessed Donatello squeezing tightly to Raphael’s throat making the crimson eyed turtle sputter, gasp, and moan his darker green legs spreading all the while his arms attempting to find perch on the near smooth rock surface he was pinned to. The deep black, near purple, eyes turned to the Dawn magic weaver only to nod with a crooked smile. The kiss Donatello gave to Raphael was violent to the point of pulling out breath leaving one Raphael wheezing a sound of untold pleasurable asphyxiation just until there was tensing in his eyes that flying open unfocused to hazy landing upon Michelangelo’s face. The sight made ice bloom in Michelangelo’s stomach as knew Raphael was suffocating under Donatello’s cruel, it seemed to their baby brother, touches.

“My dear, sweet brother.” Donatello whispered pulling back curling his fingers around Raphael’s quickly bruising neck, “Turn your head for me, let me taste you for a moment as you greet our lost little brother, Mikey, to see.”

Raphael was putty in Donatello’s hands moving to eye, so hazily it made the younger question if he was even in his head at this time, Michelangelo but nodded with a sadistic grin, “Mikey... Why didn’t you make a sound... or you can come closer? It’s always more fun when there are more people involved.” He licked his lips eyeing Donatello, “And I sure wouldn’t mind you participating, Michelangelo, in snuggling our bodies.”

Michelangelo’s first thought was of his childhood where Raphael and he laid on the couch under a single blanket curled tightly together and nuzzling each other’s chests keeping warm in the cold winter months when Leonardo was first shipped around and their home moved from the Warm summer lands of their school year then to the lack of school to the Winter lands during such , almost, enjoyable breaks. He flushed never before thinking those times were any which way perverted or insincere to where Michelangelo now wanted to cry. A part of his brother he loved was now being tarnished. 

With a deep steadying breath Michelangelo shifted to turn away, “You’re not suppose to be here! Nor am I suppose to interact with you, Dusks.” Michelangelo stated somewhat firmly, or so as he hoped, sloshing his way to the deeper part of the water to swim away back to the shore and to his clothing. 

“Oh do not be like that Mikey.” Donatello purred like silk his hand touching the small shimmering metal with the Dusk stone imbedded into it where it lay upon the rock the two lovers were against. 

Without realizing it a heavy weight slivered over Michelangelo’s body eyes eerily wide with small, still firing, rationalizing parts of his brain had him know he was captured by his enemy, his sadistic brothers. Eyes turning slowly, disbelievingly down, to the chains slithering around Michelangelo’s waist pulling him into the rocks smooth surface turning his head to eye the sight of the Dusks’, “We’re here to see you, silly little child.” Donatello licked his lips softly before he leaned down when Michelangelo felt his body chained to the wall unable to the move for his desired freedom. “You’re such an important little thing to me. To us, Mikey. The dawns have no idea how important you are to to everything in your two siblings hearts laying inches from you.” Donatello eyed Raphael who looked torn between pleasure from his elder brother and wanting to be near his younger, long ago lost, sibling. Donatello found it hilarious before he whispered into the middle where they both were trapped, one by chains other by a hand to the throat of their dearest sexual partner, “Who would like to ‘feel’ and who would like to be the one enjoying the touches through sight?” 

Raphael groaned but his eyes turned to Michelangelo unsure, “Mikey... let’s ... Mike..” He was barely able to get the words out before going nearly limp from the lack of oxygen in his body.  
\------  
As time had passed normally for everyone else inside the dome or on watch it was then as the young green turtle began to realize small things, sorrowful things, about himself.

So thus as Michelangelo was shaking when he got out of the water to the moment his body was dry enough to dress his mind was nearly too far scatter bound with what had just happened to him behind that rock in the lake. He knew the bruises from the chains were around his limbs still blooming so he’d have to be careful about not letting anyone see it for fear they’d realize what they were and who they were from. No one in camp seemed to have chain flower weapons, as far as he had witnessed so far, and they all knew his brother, Donatello, had the Scythe with the chains that was powerful enough to massacre an entire battalion if he so desired that ‘ bombardment of fun’. 

The clothing, haphazardly strewn on him in his reckless thoughts, was almost looking as if he was pinned and demoralized in a sinful, inappropriate, Dusk like manner as he took a look at himself from the waters unmoving, mirror like reflection before laughing at how he had failed to button it up right or do the simple thing as put his guards on his arms or legs in their right spot (left leg to left leg right leg to right left) before he sat down fixing these small issues.

Why had this happened? It wasn’t like his brothers, his Dusk brothers, had violated him. No they teased him, kissed his cheek, neck, and-. Michelangelo’s face was a burst of shades of green and red that he sat looking eyes out towards the water.

He remembered how things had switched from him to Raphael. IT was... erotic and so much the other world that it was hard to tell if it was his or the crystals gift.

_Raphael whispered softly from the now severe pressure on his vocal cords, “Screw me now, Donnie, please...” Raphael couldn’t wait much longer to feel something in him and to feel the pressure from the deep pounding he knew his older brother would give him like he usually did at times back at their own palace._

_“Now you can just wait, Raphie.” Donatello sharply gave words allowing his sharp fangs to show slightly at the red turtle even as he leaned in taking a kiss._

_Raphael seemed to have appreciated it as he pulled Donatello into his body grinding against him extreme need. The snicker that left Don’s mouth and the eyeroll of the purple turtle made Michelangelo think more of the foreplay he had seen in the other world._

_“Stop...” Michelangelo felt his voice return. “I... let me go, Donnie, please!” the urgency was there and clear but the look of calculation on Donatello’s face as he stopped paying attention to Raphael even as he showed his now re-found annoyance._

_“I come all the way here to help seduce you, Mikey, why ‘would’ I let go?” Donatello slowly lowered Raphael down making the turtle sputter and gasp, the grip on the edge of the wall tightening, and Michelangelo turned his head not wanting to see this. Not wanting to learn that Raphael was very vocal about how he loved the feeling of being smashed against the rock. How his beloved soothing Donnie pushed against the most pleasurable spot in his body._

_It was for Michelangelo to know how good it was._

_Tears fell down Michelangelo ’s body before the chains slackened when Raphael grew louder. Donatello wasn’t focusing on him anymore he was trying to make Raphael pant, make the red turtle yell out his name, and Michelangelo gave one last look at his two brothers and the feelings he didn't’ understand rushed to the surface as he swam to the shore where his clothing was. He had not realized he had been on the other side of the lake until that moment..._

The thoughts subsided of the last, who knows the minutes, passed his mental memory filter that was broken to give him a sort of acceptance. So with as many calming breaths as it could he create Michelangelo stood pushing everything to the corner of his mind caging it up with as much willpower as it took magic then off he went dressed to his camp figuring he would need to rotate the guards since his brothers found them too easily for his renewed liking. Oh how he was growing use every second on the battlefield to atrocious sins his Dawn life never accepted. Sins he found were not as damaging to him as he once prior thought would shatter his very soul.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ****Song for this chapter: Into the Darkness- The Phantoms ***
> 
> **NOTE:** I may or may not have a long chapter next time but it isn't going to be pretty. My warning.


	18. Seventeen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking so long. I wanted to make this sooo much longer but in the end I realized I was losing 'interest' in it because I was attempting to 'deviate' from the original plan slightly to do so. I know that this might seem slightly offish for the story, the whole thing I redid twice but I still couldn't properly get out what I wanted. :( So please bear with me. next chapter should be better because it will follow the plan,
> 
> and if I missed something, like a per.xiod like this tell me. Editing with a cat is something I won't recommend.

Chapter 17

The time between the trip to the bathing incident to the three weeks gathering information and sending out scouts had taken up so much time of Michelangelo's schedule that his thoughts did not drift so easily to the incident that the Dusk’s had created but more to the fact that he had noticed a change in his men from their realization of the fallout between Charles and himself. He was surprised it spread this far before it came to the point even Leonardo felt it hovering over him with much regret and anger. It bothered Michelangelo to see his brother so tense over the words spoken behind their back that Michelangelo was forced not to be with Charles over his brother’s insecurities and cruel Dawn ‘treatments’. 

Though there was no one to actually stand up and tell it to Leonardo’s face with the fear of heading out of the enchanted cage around them that so far proved to be their only protection from the beasts lying in way outside. It was because of this why on the third week the scouts that were sent out along with the young orange eyed turtle finally found truth that there was no ambush to come in the near future but it had helped with finding food that would be able to be of use soon in the near future. 

With this realization Michelangelo felt some form of freedom from the pain in his shell that hunching brought from the long hours working to the headache bursting behind his eyes from the paper pushing Leonardo and there's thrust upon him up to the worst in his mind being his throat so dry from talking to his brother over information that they briefly, secretively, discussed over scrying crystal in a morse code that Charles helped the whites who returned home to set up for the main city to hear of their major suffering. It was difficult to see him return home for a short time before returning with a silent relieved sigh from Michelangelo in the shadows. 

Of course this small terse in freedom was by one of the worst incidents that Leonardo had to take care of because it impacted them all in this desperate hour: Food. It was to happen eventually when their sources of food from hunting, where they had not done so as they just barely scouted around their dome more, left the vulnerable to hunger until such things as leaving camp for a period of time came into a bigger role. Michelangelo had been again put in charge for the next few hours while a hunting party was put into place by those with the skills and the few red leaders deemed above Leonardo’s understanding was now a must. Michelangelo understood why, unlike his brother he felt, that those tense and desperate rushed around for gear, location ideas, and the need for food rip in their eyes. There were species amongst his men that instincts would overrule the higher brain and it would be a massacre inside their sanctuary.

The ticking clock counting down the party’s leaving, an unruly black turtle with blue eyes, left the youngest turtle with a feeling that Charles would be sent outside to hunt being a wolfran because of the pack mentality and acued hunting instincts along with his brethren. They were skilled hunters as were the few diagoon’s that were in the dome. It was this thought that as everyone saw the dimming light felt slee was more important to be early than erratic like usual, but to Michelangelo it would mean that sleep would indeed involve the world beyond that his crystal showed him. His resistance to it the last few weeks had been strong but his craving to be in the company of his brother’s, those who loved him, was so powerful in these last few days with Leonardo’s unpredictable needs and irrational emotions it had him almost in tears to acknowledge he needed his safety net for his own sanity.   
\----  
“Black?” The dubbing name for his color had him in seconds turning his head before raising a brow slowly giving out a gasp in shock as he noticed the color the person was wearing, white, one that was not allowed upon the battlefield because of the female factor that this class was .

“Yes?” Michelangelo was taking deep breaths to try and calm his mind down. Out of all the colors white were never tainted and thus the female resounding fact was probably why they, the Dawns, still existed. 

Michelangelo remembered his tenth birthday, the naming day that honored the birth name he had been given, and he remembered the whites ... designated whites for his age faction... being aligned next to others. He had always felt weird being the one left out but it was given. He didn’t learn until later from Leonardo that they were assigning the marriages if one did not happen before a certain age to procure a good breed for the next generation in those who at such a young age showed sign of potential of greatness. He remembered ‘why’ he didn’t have one. He was viewed as a traitor. A ‘Dusk’ in the making because even Leonardo, Donnie, and Raphael had their ‘mates’. He stood alone along the like getting blessed. He never felt so alone before until reaching the top.

A sin was to judge and cast blame or disgust upon another Dawn who was innocent. As he was always seen or judged guilty of a sin by many with their scornful look and near dismissal, to be outside of an affiliation with others was also a sin of isolation, had placed Michelangelo through his life with a inadequate need to appease people and hide everything, such as the dreams of the other world and the need to feel loved even if by his only brother who remained by his side.  
“If you do not mind could you direct me to where the injured are? We opened up a temporary portal to send in your reinforcements and medical supplies.” She was almost in a stuttering phase looking everywhere but at him. Weird but he wasn’t going to snap at her for it.

“Ah, well-.” Michelangelo flushed then motioned to several tents, “We’ll either need to gather them up or-.”

“NO! It’s fine! We can deal with the walking.” The white jumped eyeing him.

“um, do you mind if I ask what’s wrong?” The young turtle shifted uneasily noticing the darting glances.

“Sorry... you’re just not....” she flushed looking down at the ground.

“Not what you were expecting in a black.” Michelangelo finished once realizing what she had actually felt towards him. Insecurity for her belief of what someone should and probably normally looked like, “Yeah I’m not the typical black build or-... everything.” With a small laugh, one full of self hate and other emotions, he gave her a small carefully laced kind smile, “Come I’ll show you the second-in-command. I’m rather tired from my long haul the last three weeks thus I’m not able to actually help you right at this moment.” stating as so the orange hue to his eyes drifted into a darker, exhausted, color that made the White dressed female blinked, “So... this way to the tent. He’s in here helping, or should be...”   
\---  
Charles frowned when Michelangelo had returned with a white to the tent most of the wounded were in for easy access. He had been bothered by things of late, so many that it was far too much for him to think of all at once, and his need to understand was driving him into a frenzy of bloodlust and small disobedience. He caught how Michelangelo looked, exhausted and so worn down, that as he had someone help the white he rushed out to grab the others shoulder only in a troubled minded state noticing Michelangelo walking outside the barrier towards the water's edge by the lake. How, he wondered, could Michelangelo think of swimming when he looked like he could fall over any second from his need to sleep? Tossing the idea of just walking away he moved out of the dome heading to the waters front watching his love... no Michelangelo couldn’t be called that without permission again, without-... something to understand what happened in that tent. He paused a few feet from Michelangelo taking in a lung full of air before speaking catching the other off guard, “Michelangelo, we need to talk.”


	19. Chapter Eighteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for being gone for so long! I had a hard time writing this chapter given that it killed one of my favorite characters and it is the end of one part of the arch for this story. The next is the beginning of where the crystal's dreams are more explained along with visits and a huge insight into the Dusks!
> 
> Song for you all to listen to while reading this: [ Battle Field by Svrcina](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GZrddJPGp1I)
> 
> I'm sure many of you are a little furious with me for taking so long but I will do my best to finish this! I have set my New Years Resolution to be: WRITE all my stories down from beginning to end and then edit them before I post them. This might mean slower story updates (from my non-existant postings XD) but please bear with me!

Chapter eighteen

Michelangelo looked up at Charles his eyes wide slightly but he smiled before turning to fully face him, "Sure, what is it you want to talk about? Though if it just works... I think I'll be a bit depressed about it." He caught the slight smile Charles gave him before he moved closer eyes looking straight down a Michelangelo's face their differences in height being so plain in sight this way.

"Tell me, what is your relationship with your brother?" Charles' voice was tense when he looked the other over the conflicting emotions, thoughts, plainly thrown out in how his gaze lingered over Michelangelo's body and face.

"My brother? Normal... I suppose..." Michelangelo flushed because he really had no clue. He did lust for Leonardo, he did yearn to be taken, touched, and a lot of other things but at the same time he felt maybe that was because of the other world and its influence on him here on his own. "I'm not exactly sure what are ‘relationship' is some days. He... doesn't like being near me so maybe not very ‘family' orientated." With this stated, he looked down at Charles' chest taking a few deep breaths.

Charles though eyed Michelangelo before growling leaning over the other wrapping his arms around Michelangelo's shoulders pulling him tight against his front, "Mikey... Please then, please tell me if he's done anything to you that you never wanted to be done. Touched you, kissed, things brothers should never take from each other."

At this Michelangelo's head shot up his eyes wide and frightened remembering after Charles had left the tent what his brother had done and he paled. Did he want those things to have happened? Did they feel like he had been violated by his brother who was suppose to be the clan's leader for him and the older turtle? Did he feel as if it was unwanted? Michelangelo didn't know because while it felt rather strange for his brother, not the other worlds brother to have touched him it wasn't unwelcomed just rather frustrating since the way Leonardo seemed to do it was very arousing and very focused as if at any second things would pop between them and the most delicious, cruel, and pleasurable things would happen that Michelangelo felt he wouldn't regret but Leonardo might. Did he hated that he felt want for his own brother or, perhaps, did he hate that he shouldn't? Michelangelo looked down anywhere but at Charles if he could help it before whispering that he just didn't know anymore.

His words weren't taken well as Charles tightened his grip on Michelangelo's shoulder all the while growling out more in his throat in question, in a need that lay hidden in the rumbling growl from Charles' chest, "Did you love your brother while we were together, Mikey?" It was the question that ripped Michelangelo apart because he weakly nodded and looked up sadly at Charles' face saying in a very audible tone and a whisper of a ‘Yes'. He could feel the tears falling down his cheeks as he looked at Charles sharp muzzle, his bared fangs, and the slightly wild look in Charles wolfish eyes. Michelangelo watched as the look grew darker with every passing second until Charles dropped his arms and stepped back the look of feral horror leaving to be replaced by a feral disgust and anger. Charles snapped his jaws as his hands clenched at his side before snarling in an almost unnatural way, "You used me! You used me as his replacement!" 

"No!" Michelangelo's eyes widened in surprise hands waving in front of his body and face trying to show he had not meant for that to happen but he couldn't deny it. A lot of the time while he had been with Charles he had thought of Leonardo both versions and his chest sank with his heart. "Yes...." He submitted the tears increasing as they fell down his face, "But I do love you, I do care for you! You meant everything to me while we have been together. I just, I'm just... a disgusting turtle like everyone says. I-."

"Then why!" Charles howled in anguish the sound carrying Michelangelo was certain back to the bubble with everyone in letting them all hear the tortured sound and know it was their disgusting black ‘orange' user. "WHY did you do it! Why would you be with me, call me your lover, hold me, all of it! WHY if you wanted him! Why did you let him touch you in that tent!" 

"Because I couldn't have you!" They both stared at each other in shock before Michelangelo flushed the skin turning a different green and Michelangelo again said, "I couldn't have you and I wanted you, I wanted you as my mate, not Leonardo while we were together. I still do. I love you, Charles, and I don't know why I love my brother at the same time. I'm... I'm a mess! I don't know if it's my bloodline or the dreams or if it's whatever the Elders say is in me but I -... I do want everything we've done, wanted to do, but I just... We were so close, Charles." Michelangelo collapsed onto his knees weeping in a longer effect causing his tone to change towards a higher one his eyes a bit puffy as he kept speaking his emotions and the actions around them, "Then it was over because of him and.. And he was there, on top of me! I was so aroused and I wanted a release. I wanted to mate, to be loved, held! Everything-.." 

Charles turned around slamming his fist into the rock nearest him snarling out unaware of Michelangelo's labored and troubled breathing, "Then you should have stopped him!" Charles didn't see the panic striking over Michelangelo's face as the thought of doing that would have caused a severe issue. Charles Didn't see the blood draining Michelangelo's face or his whispered words laced with the fear of death by the hands of one so dear.

"He would... have tried to beat me to death if I stopped him." The words almost didn't reach Charles drawn back ears if not for the fact he was turning around at the lack of sobbing to see the terror in Michelangelo's wide glazed over eyes at the mere thought that came with memories of denying Leonardo something or fighting back. Charles took a step forward until a sword met with his own weapon sending him flying into the rock he earlier punched. The sound of skin being hit met both Charles and Michelangelo's ears before both realized that Leonardo had used the back of the sword to hit Michelangelo's own neck near the back of his shell sending him falling to his side. Both turtle and world stared at the blue eyes raising up from eyeing Michelangelo to stare into Charles' face with an uneasily placed emotion.

"I see you've disregarded my warnings, Charles, and above that turned my brother, a black and your leader, into a sobbing mess unfit for fighting." Leonardo raised his sword his top lids on his eyes dropping down to turn Leonardo's gaze into one of a furious monster, "I, the leader of the units, who bore witness to your crimes state now on the record in front of another black that you, Charles Astrand, have begun and already fallen past the first reversible steps in becoming a Dusk. The punishment is," the words didn't come out of Leonardo's lips fast enough as Michelangelo watched Leonardo move his sword slicing through Charles own weapon with ease the crafted flower gift scattering into petals before Charles blinked falling to his knees coughing up blood, "Death." Leonardo looked down at the slash wound on Charles' chest before reversing his blade behind Charles' back stabbing it through Charles' chest and running it up through the wolves shoulders slicing free from muscles, bones, and ligaments in a shower of blood. Michelangelo stared in shock watching Charles blink in surprise the glow to Charles gaze slowing vanishing until he fell slumped forward onto his stomach head in the dirt.

Charles, the wolf who captured Michelangelo's heart, had been killed, murdered?, by Michelangelo's own brother. For what reason Michelangelo couldn't see other than talking to each other as lovers tended to do in a small spat of fighting that happened once in awhile. Something normal, something Michelangelo felt was natural, but... was death because it because of the Dusks ability to infect lovers? Was this a sanctioned kill? Did... Did Charles' heart turn for real? If so didn't that mean Michelangelo's had also?

The sound and feeling of moving clothing and his head being lifted Michelangelo felt his eyes pulled away from the dead wolf of his best-beloved friend and lover up into the eyes of Leonardo who smiled in a loving needing way that demanded all attention to be on him, "That's it. You're alright, Mikey.... I'll always keep you my pure little brother, safe, and mine." The look turned from loving to lustful the smile of kindness to one of vindictive nature to hurt. It twisted Leonardo's face to the point Michelangelo didn't think he was looking up at his brother. 

Michelangelo's gaze stayed fixed upon Leonardo's face just as the crystal glowed around Michelangelo's neck sensing the need to pull it's master away. Sensing that right now there was no reason to keep its master in a situation where the other would suffer in agony if it could help. Leonardo held Michelangelo but saw the glow and couldn't stop it nor could his shouts which drew attention from those in the bubble now no longer blocked from his power hearing the repeated calls of ‘Mikey' as Leonardo shook Michelangelo's shoulders and body, begged his younger brother to stay with him before Michelangelo's eyes went black in a death like measure. No emotion, no movement, no living essence remained as many of the fighting forces came rushing to see the seen. May already forming that Leonardo came to his brother's rescue and that Michelangelo's trusted friend, his lover, fell into the darkness all Dusks' at one point in their beginning formation gathered. 

They blamed Charles for whatever ailment Michelangelo currently suffered as Leonardo cried continuously fighting off the blues who attempted to check up on Michelangelo's body and his mental condition. None aware that Michelangelo sat in limbo fighting his own growing and new demons.


End file.
